“Good, because it’s a little cold already.”
JP took his jacket off and handed it to her. “Here, wear this.”
She pushed the jacket back at him. “No, then you’ll be cold.”
“I’m fine. It’s warmer than a preacher’s knee out here.”
“Yeah, right.”
He looked at her and smirked. “I’m not wearing it. You may as well.”
Sabre put the jacket on. She knew he wouldn’t wear it now no matter how cold he felt. “And you call me stubborn. You’re as stubborn as a blue-nose mouse.”
JP laughed. “I think you mean mule.”
“Mouse, mule, what the heck.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. JP broke it when he asked, “Bailey hasn’t responded to any of your calls?”
“No, and now I’m afraid she won’t. She probably knows by now that I’m aware of the pregnancy. I just wonder what happened to the baby.”
“I hate to even think about the possibilities. By the way, I’ve been trying to track Dr. Cavitt down, but so far I’ve had no luck. I went to Clairemont Community Center, the last place he worked according to his tax records, and was told he was working at some group home. I’ve researched every group home where an obstetrician might be needed and no one has him listed on staff.”
“So what now?”
“We have a home address for him, but I don’t want to go there until we have to. It might tip him off.” JP stood up slowly. “Look.” He nodded his head and pointed with just his finger toward the school fence.
A man, wearing a knit cap pulled down over his ears and an overcoat that looked dirty even from across the street, walked straight to Hayden’s bag.
“It’s like he knew it was there,” JP said.
The man leaned over and picked it up. Sabre stood up. “What now?”
“Let’s just see where he goes.”
The man opened the bag, took out the sandwich, and started eating it as he walked across the street toward Sabre, JP, and the park. From across the street the man looked to be over sixty, but as he approached Sabre realized he was probably closer to thirty. He had obviously been on the streets for a while. As soon as he reached the grass, he sat down and continued to eat his sandwich. He wasn’t more than fifteen feet from their tree.
“Stay here,” JP said, as he walked toward the man. Sabre followed closely behind. JP turned and scowled at her but she continued along with him.
“Excuse me, sir.”
“What?” the man asked. His tone wasn’t particularly friendly, but not hostile either.
“Do you mind my asking about your food there?” The man clutched the bag to his chest. “Look, I don’t want your food. I just want to know if this is the first time you found the food there.”
“No, it’s there ‘most every day. Not on the weekends, though.”
“How long have you been getting it?”
“About a week. Maybe a little more.” The man squinted his eyes at JP. “You a cop?”
“No, I’m not a cop.”
“Cuz I ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” the man said. “I figure it’s just some fussy kid who don’t like his lunch.”
“That’s probably it.” JP reached in his pocket and took out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to him. “Here. Those lunches might not last forever. Take care.” JP took Sabre by the arm and walked away.
They walked to their car and made a loop around the park looking for Mama T and her shopping cart. Sabre just realized Mama T had probably lost all her treasures in the cart that was left behind. She clicked her tongue in a gesture of frustration.
“What’s the matter?” JP asked.
“I should’ve done something with Mama T’s cart yesterday. She’s probably lost it.”
He looked at her. “And what could you have done with it? Put it in your car?”
“I know, but …”
“But, there was nothing you could’ve done,” JP finished the sentence for her. JP looked out as they pulled up to the curb on the side of the park that led to the bridge. “Why don’t you go on home and let me do this alone? It’s getting late.”
Sabre stepped out of the car. “Then we better hurry. Come on.”
JP removed two silver, three-D cell, LED flashlights from the trunk of his car and handed one of them to Sabre.
“It’s not dark, yet,” Sabre said.
“It will be. Besides, it makes a good club in case we need it.” He raised the flashlight as if to clunk her on the head with it.
Sabre wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re just trying to scare me.”
“You should be scared more often. My grandpa used to say, ‘Show fear a little respect, son. It’ll keep you safe.’”
“Wise grandpa.”
They walked across the field toward the bridge, maneuvering through the weeds and the garbage. Sabre was still dressed in court attire, but at least she had worn a pant suit and reasonably low-heeled shoes.
JP walked behind Sabre while keeping an eye on her. When she hit her foot on something and said, “Ouch,” he switched spots and led the way, occasionally looking back at her.
Finally, he reached out his hand and said, “Here, take my hand. I need to know where you are.”
Sabre slipped her hand into his and suddenly felt safer, but JP continued to grumble about how he should’ve come alone.
When they approached the “camp,” Sabre recognized a few people from the last time. The young woman who had originally told them Mama T’s name sat huddled against the wall. They approached her and asked for Mama T.
“She’s not here.”
“Have you seen her today?”
“No, not since yesterday, but she’ll be back. She always comes back.”
“I’m sure she will.” Sabre didn’t think it would serve any purpose to tell them about Mama T’s trip to the hospital. Besides, she didn’t know if Mama T would even want her to tell. A man reeking of alcohol and urine staggered toward her. She stepped out of the way just before he reached her, and he fell down against a pile of clothes. Sabre leaned over and asked him if he was all right. He moaned in reply, but didn’t appear to be hurt. Something about him looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. She had probably seen him the last time they were here.
JP took the opportunity to show everyone Cole’s photo again and ask a few questions. No one seemed to know anything. After a few minutes, they started the walk back to the car with no more answers than they came with. No information on Cole, and no Mama T.
40
Bob knocked on Karen Lecy’s door. At Sabre’s request he had set an appointment with her, and to make certain she kept it he scheduled it at her house. Bob was as concerned about Bailey’s baby as everyone else. If there was a baby out there who needed help, they all had to pull together. But no one had reported seeing a baby with Bailey or her mother. The social worker never reported anything nor had any neighbors. Maybe she had miscarried.
After much banging on the door, Karen finally answered it. “Huh?” she said when she opened the door. Her eyes were barely open, her hair was disheveled, her make-up was blurred, and she wore a short, see-through negligee. She was only twenty-nine-years old, but she looked fifty.
Bob looked at his watch. “It’s 1:30 in the afternoon. Are you just waking up?”
“It was a rough night.” She backed away from the door and said, “Come on in.”
“Go put some clothes on; then I’ll come in.”
Bob waited on the porch. After about five minutes, he knocked on the open door and yelled to her.
“Comin’,” she said.
Bob continued to wait, this time checking his watch to see how long she was taking. Five more minutes passed. “Karen, come on. I don’t have all day.”
“Yeah,” she yelled back.
Bob lit a cigarette and paced in front of the house. The cigarette was nearly gone when Karen finally returned, wearing a man’s long-sleeved shirt that she had apparently just sl
ipped over the negligee. Her hair and face were still a mess, and from the look of her dilated eyes and numb lips, she’d spent the last few minutes ingesting something less than legal.
“What are you on?” Bob asked, never one to pussy-foot around his clients.
“Nothing.”
Bob entered the house. He couldn’t take a step without encountering some kind of trash, beer can, or piece of clothing. She directed him to the cluttered sofa, but he opted for a dining room chair. Before he sat down, he leaned the chair over and tapped it against the floor to remove any excess food that might be attached to the seat. Karen sat down across from him, but within seconds she stood up and moved around the room.
“Karen, something has come to our attention that needs to be dealt with right away.”
“What?”
“We know that Bailey was pregnant. We need to know what happened to the child.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who told you that? It’s that bitchy social worker spreading lies, isn’t it?” She opened the refrigerator, took out a beer, and popped it open.
“I haven’t even spoken to the social worker. She may not even know,” Bob said. “Karen, listen to me. We need to protect that baby. If you’re hiding him or her, you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”
“It’s not true. My baby was never pregnant. Why can’t they just leave us alone? They want to pin something on her to cover their own asses, don’t they. That’s it. They put her in foster care and now they can’t protect her, so they want to blame me or her for something. They’re making up shit.” She guzzled her beer.
“Think about that innocent little baby. He may need our help. Or is he with someone safe?”
Karen moved in closer to Bob’s face. “There is no baby!” she screamed.
Bob tried several more times to reach her, but it was no use as long as she was high. He looked around the room before he left. “You really need to clean this pigsty up before the social worker comes back here. She’ll have one more thing to rag on you about.”
Bob smiled to himself as he walked to his car. If Bailey had a child, Karen is a twenty-nine-year-old grandmother. He shuddered. That poor little baby.
Sabre hadn’t called the social worker yet about Bailey’s pregnancy. She only told Bob because she thought he might be able to help, but she couldn’t keep it from DSS much longer. She hadn’t received this information in confidence, so there was no privilege attached. She just needed to gather a little more information. Is there a baby or not? And if there is, is he or she at risk? She called and left another message for Bailey, pleading with her to call back. Then she called the social worker.
“Hello, Gillian, this is Sabre Brown. I’m calling about Bailey Lecy.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Do you know anything about Bailey being pregnant?”
“She’s pregnant?”
“Not now, but apparently she was until about a month ago. Do you know anything about that?”
“No. That can’t be. I’ve been investigating that family most of the year. I never saw her pregnant.”
“I have good reason to believe she was.”
“So, where’s the baby?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling you.”
“I think you’re mistaken, but I’ll certainly follow up and see what I can find out.”
Bob walked into Sabre’s office as she was finishing her call with the social worker. He started to walk back out and give her some privacy, but she waved her hand and motioned him to come in and sit down.
Bob sat down and picked up the antique mahogany hourglass that sat on Sabre’s desk. He turned it over and watched the sand run down.
“Thank you. Please let me know if you discover anything.” Sabre hung up the phone.
Bob examined the hourglass. “I like this. Where did you get it?”
“My mom came by the office today on her way to an appointment and dropped it off. It belonged to my brother, Ron. He collected all kinds of weird things.”
Bob slid his glasses down to the edge of his nose and looked over them. “There’s some very intricate woodwork on here. It looks Victorian.”
“It is. And it keeps excellent time. It takes between fifty-nine and sixty minutes to empty.” Sabre sighed. “Any luck with Bailey’s mom?”
“No. She denies any possibility of Bailey ever being pregnant. Blames it all on DSS. She’s such a charmer. Do you realize she could be a twenty-nine-year-old grandmother?”
“That’s a lovely thought. You don’t usually think about grandmas being druggies.”
“What did Gillian say?” Bob asked.
“She’s in denial, too. Says she hasn’t seen any signs of a pregnancy and that she’s been checking on them for the past year.”
“Maybe Shellie was wrong?”
“I don’t think so, but I’d like to hear what Bailey has to say. I wish she’d call me back.”
After Bob left her office, Sabre finished some paperwork and then packed up her briefcase. She drove to the park and looked for both Cole and Mama T. She found neither one.
41
A man pulled out of the parking spot directly in front of the bar as JP pulled up. JP maneuvered his car into the space, stepped out of his car, and donned his Stetson. A sign nearly as old as the building jutted out from the wall above the door. It had a palm tree on a beach and the words “The Ruins” in lights. At least a quarter of the bulbs were missing. Since it was daylight the sign wasn’t lit, and JP wondered if it worked at all.
He stepped inside a very dark room. It took several seconds to adjust his eyes to where he could see anything. All he could make out at first were a couple of figures sitting at the bar. Although he saw no one smoking, the place smelled of stale cigarette smoke and fresh beer. Within a few seconds his eyes began to adjust to the lighting. Two customers sat at a table against the wall and six more were belly-up to the bar, all with what was presumably an alcoholic beverage in front of them at 9:33 in the morning. A slender fifty-something man tended bar behind the counter.
“Good morning, Tex,” he said, as JP sat down on a corner barstool. “What can I get you this fine morning?”
“Black coffee if you have it.”
“Coming right up,” he said.
From his barstool, JP could see that the room was long and narrow and was furnished with a few tables and chairs and four pool tables. Cheap tropical décor was splattered throughout the room. Several tiki masks hung above a cigarette machine on the wall behind him. In the corner stood a five-foot tiki god with a bobbing head and huge white teeth exposed by a freaky smile. A pineapple was carved into the top of his head. The head took up about two-thirds of the tiki and sat on a huge spring. The bottom half of the tiki was the shape of a man carved out of the trunk of a coco palm.
The bartender returned with the coffee and set it down on the bar. JP handed him a five-dollar bill. When the bartender went to the cash register, JP noticed some old football photos on the wall above it.
“Those yours?” JP asked, pointing to the photos.
The bartender nodded. “A hundred years ago.” He picked up a glass half full of what looked like whiskey sitting next to the register and took a drink.
“Are you Thomas Anthony Martin, III, star quarterback from Monroe High School?”
“Do I know you?”
“No.”
The bartender smiled. “That’s my name, but friends and enemies alike all call me Tony. You can, too. And I wasn’t a star, just second string, but I loved the game.” He looked at JP and read him with all the knowledge of one who had observed people for many years. “So, if you don’t know me, who are you looking for?” Tony asked.
“I’m a private investigator and I’m doing a little work on an old trust case. I’m looking for the Monroe High quarterback with jersey number six. Would that be you?”
“No. That’d be McGill, but I’m afraid he left us many years ago for the big stadium i
n the sky.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Not really. I played football with him for two years. Damn good player. Much better than I was. But I never hung out with him in any other capacity.” Tony took another drink.
“Did you know any of his close friends?”
“He hung out with the quarterback from Bucher mostly. I can’t remember his name.”
“Did you know a kid named Barney or maybe Billy that McGill hung out with?”
Tony shook his head. “Can’t say as I did.” Tony raised his glass toward JP in a toasting kind of gesture. “But then my brain isn’t what it used to be.”
St. Joseph’s Catholic Church was empty except for a lone woman kneeling in the front row. JP walked about half way up the aisle and took a seat. He checked his watch. It was only five minutes before the funeral was scheduled to begin and no one was there. He didn’t expect a big crowd for Scott’s service, but he didn’t expect to make up fifty percent of the attendance. He glanced around. Two stained glass windows looked out of place in an otherwise plain, almost austere, setting. The casket dominated the space in front of the altar.
JP wondered if the woman was Maryanne. She wasn’t wearing a habit, but he knew the rules for nuns weren’t as strict as they once were. She looked as if she might be about the right age, but he couldn’t tell for sure from where he sat. He would just have to wait until after the service.
A priest walked in from a side door and spoke briefly with the woman. JP couldn’t hear the conversation. Then he began the funeral mass. “Eternal rest give to them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them.”
JP had never been to a Catholic Mass before but he found it quite interesting when it first started. Then his mind began to wander. It had been some time since he had been in a church for any reason. He thought back. The last time was probably when his brother married some twenty years ago. He could remember going to church with his grandma when he was young. She’d always take him out for ice cream after the service, which encouraged him to go with her more often.
The Advocate - 03 - The Advocate's Conviction Page 21
