What You See

by Ann Mullen

“All right then, about your salary. Your salary, after taxes, will be two hundred and fifty dollars a week to start. The more you’re involved in the day-to-day operations, the more you can make. I’ll pay you bonuses on jobs when you do more than just office work.”

  “What do you mean, more than office work?”

  “For example: going out in the middle of the night and staking out the target of an investigation, or taking pictures for me—just the general stuff that a trainee in this line of work would do. If you’re not interested in doing anything like this, it’s okay. Just tell me now and I won’t hold it against you. This line of work isn’t for everyone.”

  “I’d love to do something like that. I could learn and earn at the same time,” I joked.

  “All right then, we have work to do.”

  As I was walking out of Billy’s office with the coffee tray, he called out to me, “When I’m out in the field, I wear casual clothes; jeans or whatever. Sometimes it can get right rough out there. You might want to keep a change of clothing in a duffel bag in your car. You never know when you might need them.”

  I let this sink in as I went to the coffee room and washed out the cups. After putting everything away, I went to my desk to continue the task at hand. I didn’t have any problems with the computer system, and I found everything I needed to do what Billy had asked of me. I laid the envelope with the Carrolton’s receipt in the outgoing mail basket and took the check back to Billy.

  After listening to the messages and taking notes at the same time, Billy handed me a piece of paper from one of those pink pads and said, “Get Mrs. Miller on the line for me, and then call Mr. Dempsey and set up an appointment for Monday morning. When you’re finished, maybe we can talk.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I was back in Billy’s office.

  “Mrs. Miller wants me to find out if her husband is cheating on her—two to three days at the most. A few pictures and several hours of surveillance, and we’ll be done. She’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

  “You say that so nonchalantly. How do you feel when you get the dirt on a guy and then have to tell his wife he’s having an affair? Don’t you feel bad for the injured party?”

  “I sure do. I hate it, but that’s life. Crap happens, and I shovel it around. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.” Then he made one of those head-rolling, eye-crossing gestures that just cracked me up.

  In the best Scarlet voice I could muster, I said, “Why, Mr. Billy, I do believe you are filled with more clichés than Savannah has plantations.” I never should’ve said that. We both started laughing so hard, I had to give Billy a tissue to wipe away his tears.

  Once we both settled down, Billy was the first to open up. “I’m a Cherokee Indian. Actually, I’m half-Indian. My father is an Indian Chief and my mother is white. To you this probably means nothing, but to me, this is a lifetime of trying to endure the pain and suffering of being different. Our people frown on marrying outside of our own kind, and when you do, you suffer the wrath that goes along with the deed. The Indian doesn’t marry the white man, or in this case, the white woman. When my father married my mother, they were shunned by other leaders, and dealt with very much like one of your Catholics that has been excommunicated from their church. It has been only in the past twenty years that our family has mended the scars left by the tribe’s old-fashioned ways. Through all of this, we managed to hold onto our pride.”

  “I don’t know much about your culture, but I can understand the reason why your people would feel the way they do. Right from the beginning the white man has crapped all over the Indians. Even I know that,” I responded.

  “I don’t dwell on the past. I try to learn from it,” Billy said. “Tell me something about your life, Jesse.”

  “There’s not much to tell. I’m thirty-one and I’ve spent most of my life doing nothing impressive. I have a sister named Claire, and a brother named Jackson... but we call him Jack. Claire’s married to a man she now thinks is cheating on her, and they have two kids, with another one on the way. Jack’s a lawyer, and single. My father retired from the Navy and my mother doesn’t work. She’s always been a housewife. They just moved to Stanardsville a couple of days ago, and I moved with them. And believe me, I didn’t leave much behind. What about you? I guess that picture on your desk must be your two boys. What about your wife?”

  “Ruth and I got a divorce five years ago, but she’s still in my thoughts. She found someone else to give her the time and attention she deserves. I don’t blame her. I was always so busy trying to make a good life for my family that I forgot the most important thing—sharing that life with the ones you love.”

  He cleared his throat and continued, “I’m 47 years old and I’ve been doing this kind of work forever. I have two sons. Will is twenty-two and in his senior year at the University of Virginia. John is twenty years old and goes to Virginia Tech. I can’t tell you how proud I am of my boys.” He picked up the picture of his sons and handed it to me.

  “Good-looking boys,” I said as I handed back the picture. “Do you date? Is there someone you’re romantically involved with?”

  “You do get right to the point, don’t you?”

  “I figure the more we know about each other, the better. It looks as if we’re going to be spending a good deal of time together, so it would help to know which side of the fence we’re standing on, and where to draw the line. If I’m getting too personal, just say so. I can handle it. I don’t bruise too easily. I’m tough.”

  “I can tell. You’re strong, yet a little insecure, which usually comes from a long line of letdowns and disappointments. You need a man to make you happy... one who will give you the fulfillment you’re missing. It will happen,” he announced. “As for me, I date sometimes.”

  “It will happen,” I joked.

  Changing the subject, he continued, “What’s this about your car? You’re going to need a car. Is there something I can do? I’m pretty good with fixing cars, and I’m great with motorcycles. I have a 1955, K-Model, Harley Sportster parked in my garage. I used to ride it all the time, but now I just take it out on cruises when the weather’s nice. I’m getting too old to ride it in the dead of winter, and I wouldn’t want to around here. I want to keep the bike’s body in good shape. The harsh winter snow and muddy rains are killers on metal.”

  “Maybe some time you’ll drive it to work, so I can check it out. I can ride bikes. I went through a phase at one time when I actually owned one. It was a 360cc Honda. I forget the year, but it had roll bars and a king and queen seat, with a sissy stick.

  That was a long time ago and the phase didn’t last long. Every time I got out onto Denbigh Boulevard, everybody on the road wanted to see if that was a girl or a guy, with all that long hair, riding a motorcycle. I had too many close calls. I said forget it, and sold the bike to a friend. As far as my car goes, my dad said it was a goner. He said something about a rod knocking. It’s an old car—real old. It’s about time for...”

  I was interrupted by the beep-beep of the front door. I stood and walked out of Billy’s office to greet our visitor. “May I help you?”

  “I’m here to talk to Billy Blackhawk. I’m Mrs. Miller.”

  Billy came out of his office. “Hello, I’m Billy Blackhawk and this is my assistant, Miss Watson. Please come in and have a seat,” he said as he gestured toward his office. “Miss Watson, hold my calls, please.’’

  The digital clock on my desk read 4:45. Good, I’m ready to call it a day.

  At ten minutes after five, Billy led Mrs. Miller out of his office and to the front door, assuring her the whole time he would do what she wanted and be in touch. Then he came over to me and handed me a file and a key.

  “This is the key to the front door. All the doors are keyed to this one key. If, at anytime, that far door over there on the left is locked, don’t go in. It’s the entrance stairway to my place. I live upstairs. The garage out back is where I normally keep my car, my truck, and my Harley
. If you want to see my bike sometime, all you have to do is go through the second door on the left, down the main hallway. Here’s the file on the Carrolton girl. Make a copy and look it over this weekend, please. Keep it to yourself. Don’t let anyone see it. When you’re finished, you can leave, and I’ll see you at eight, Monday morning.” He handed me a business card. “This card has my home phone number in case you need to talk to me after work hours. Write down your phone number on a piece of paper and leave it on your desk for me before you leave, please.”

  Once I finished the last few things I had to do, I dug out my purse and headed for the door. The rain was coming down harder than it had been all day. It figures. I had to stop somewhere and pick up dog food for Athena, and I wanted to shop for some new clothes.

  I yelled good-bye to Billy and made a run for the van. I made a stop at Wal-Mart and purchased dog food, two skirts and two blouses, a pair of navy heels, and a black leather shoulder bag. Luckily, by the time I left the store the rain had stopped.

  The drive home was pleasant, although my mind kept drifting off to Cole, my new job, and Billy.

  When I made the left turn onto Rt.33 at Ruckersville and drove up the road a bit, I noticed a sight to behold. “Wow,” I said out loud. I couldn’t believe what I saw. How could I have missed this? Where was my mind?

  There on the top of a hill to my left, sat a brown and yellow police car with a sign on top that read, Law Enforcement-Out of Control. I almost ran off the road. Never in my wildest imagination could I believe someone would have the courage to do something so bold.

  Back in Tidewater, you’d never get away with a form of expression such as this. At best, they’re probably put you in jail. Whoever was responsible has more guts than I do. America! Land of the free. Home of the brave! I love this country!

  I dragged my old, tired butt into the house, along with the stuff I had purchased at Wal-Mart. The house was empty, but, true to form, Mom had left a note saying they had taken Athena for a walk. When I took the bag of Purina Dog Chow to the utility room, I noticed someone had already bought her a bag. It brought a smile to my lips. What wonderful parents I have. I made my way upstairs and after hanging up my new clothes, I flopped down on the bed.

  I must have dozed off, because the next sounds I heard were Athena barking, and voices downstairs. After washing my face, I went down to talk to my folks. I couldn’t wait to tell them about Billy and my new job, and about that police car. I wondered if they had seen it.

  I stopped when I noticed Cole sitting at the kitchen table with Dad.

  “H-hello,” I stammered.

  “Hi, honey,” said Dad. “Come tell us about your new job. We’re dying to hear about it.”

  Mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

  “I got a job working for a private investigator named Billy Blackhawk,” I answered, waiting for Cole to make some kind of comment, considering he was a cop and probably had some contact with men in this line of work. But he said nothing. “I like him. He seems to be honest and he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Good,” Mom offered. “We want you to be happy.”

  Her comment embarrassed me. I felt as though she was implying I wasn’t happy, which might have been true in the past, but I didn’t want Cole to hear about my distress. I didn’t want him to think I was some poor, old, lonely woman with a rotten life. Things were different now. For the first time in a long time, I felt happy. I liked my new life.

  Chapter 7

  Cole had stopped by on his way home from work to tell us he couldn’t make dinner tomorrow night. He was scheduled to work the fair that was in town, and suggested we go check it out.

  “It’s something the whole community looks forward to every year. There’re going to be games, food, animals, and live entertainment. I think you folks would enjoy it.”

  He was so good-looking; it was all I could do to keep from staring. I hoped I wasn’t drooling when I replied, “I’d love to check it out. What do you think, Mom and Dad? Shall we go?”

  “We said we would probably go, remember?” Dad replied.

  Parents can be so blunt sometimes, and being candid is not always their strong suit. Sticking my tail between my legs like a dog, I decided I’d keep my mouth shut. This is getting all fouled up. I wanted Cole to see me as a lady, and not some dumb bimbo trying to grab onto the first person that came along. I felt like a child being admonished for acting silly. It must have been the guilt I was feeling for wanting to climb all over him. I had to put those thoughts out of my head.

  “You say you were on your way home? Why don’t you stay and eat with us. There’s plenty of food,” Mom offered Cole.

  “Actually, I need to go let my dog outside. River gets kind of crazy after being shut up for so long.”

  “You have a dog named River? That’s a strange name for a dog,” Mom questioned him.

  “Yeah, I guess it is. I named him River because I found him when he was just a puppy, wet and all beat up, down by the river. It was raining hard just like it’s been doing today, and I heard a whimpering, sad bark coming from that direction. So I went over to the river, and there he was all curled up. I brought him home and we’ve been together ever since. That was three years ago.”

  “Why don’t you go home and let River out and then come back for dinner? It should be ready by then,” Mom suggested as she continued to take food out of the refrigerator.

  Cole smiled as he got up to leave. “Do you think I might have time to grab a quick shower? I’ve been chasing bad guys all day, and a shower would hit the spot.”

  Was he kidding? I let out a giggle; quickly becoming the idiot teenager I had reverted back to. Maybe I should just be sent to my room. Isn’t that what a parent does when a kid gets out of control?

  After Cole left, I ran upstairs to take a shower. I needed to get gussied up, and then try not to make an idiot out of myself later.

  Cole returned at 7:31, on the dot. I remember because I was already dressed and watching the clock. I would never admit it, but the truth was, I couldn’t stand the anticipation. I had fantasies of what the evening would be like. After dinner, Mom and Dad would retire for the evening, and Cole and I would have an intimate conversation, sitting in the swing on the porch. It didn’t turn out quite like that, but the evening was interesting.

  After a dinner of Mom’s wonderful fried chicken, Cole got up and started to help clear away the dishes. That surprised me. From my experience, most men usually get up from the table and then hit the couch. As far as loading the dishwasher is concerned, forget it. I think men believe there’s a monster living in there, because they won’t go near one. I wiped down the table while Cole continued to help Mom. Dad retreated to the couch and turned on the television set.

  “Mrs. Watson, that was the best fried chicken I’ve had since I had dinner at my mom’s house,” Cole admitted.

  It was obvious Mom was charmed by him. “Thank you,” she giggled. “Why don’t you just call me, Minnie? All my friends do.”

  A few minutes later, we managed to pull Dad away from the TV. We had our after-dinner coffee on the front porch. Mom and Dad conveniently sat in the chairs, which left the swing for Cole and me. I’m sure Mom planned it that way. She knew I was interested in Cole, and she was going to do everything she could to help the relationship along. Cole must’ve sensed what she was up to. He stretched his arm out behind me and laid it on top of the swing. I looked around in time to catch him wink at her. Those rats, something was going on here that I didn’t know about.

  Shortly, Mom jumped up and proclaimed, “Mack, I almost forgot. We were supposed to call Claire tonight. Remember, I told you she said to call her Friday night before we went to bed? Let’s do it before it gets too late. I want to be able to talk to the grandkids.”

  Dad was taken by surprise. “What? Oh, yeah, now I remember.”

  “Would you excuse us for a minute, Cole? We need to call Claire. She’s our other daughter, and we promised we’d call her
tonight.”

  In a flash, they were gone, and I was left with egg on my face.

  “I’m sorry, Cole. Mom’s always trying to fix me up with someone.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I understand how mothers can be. My mom does the same thing to me. She’ll invite me over for dinner, and when I get there, I find out that she’s also invited a friend’s daughter. I’ve had my share of dinner dates, thanks to her.”

  “That’s bad. I’d die if my mom did something like that. It makes you appear so needy. Mom wants me to be happy like my sister Claire, and I think she would do anything she could to help it along. I bet the first thing she asked was if you were married. At least, she didn’t flag you down and force you to come to dinner. Did she?”

  He laughed.

  “Oh, God,” I murmured as my head dropped down. I wanted to throw up. Please don’t let this be happening. Here’s a man I’m truly attracted to, and Mom goes and does this. It was embarrassing.

  “No, she didn’t do anything like that. She did, however, tell me it was such a shame that a girl as pretty and sweet as you are, couldn’t find a man. You deserve to be happy. She’s right, except for the part about not being able to find a man. I told her one day the right man would come along and you’d find the happiness you deserve.”

  This was getting worse by the minute. Did she also tell him that I dyed my hair? I know she must have mentioned something about the size of my breasts. What else? I had to get out of here. The tone of his voice felt patronizing—something I couldn’t handle.

  I stood and was about to excuse myself, when he gently reached out his hand, touched my arm and said, “Please, don’t go. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. Don’t worry about your mom. She’s like every mother who loves her child. She wants to help.”

  “Promise me you won’t let her manipulate you,” I begged as I sat back down in the swing. “She has a way of getting people to do things they might not otherwise want to do.”

  “Hey, I’m a cop, remember? I’m used to dealing with people. I’ve met up with some pretty bad guys in the line of duty, and you think some little old, sweet mother is going to strong-arm me? No way. Why, I think I’ll just go inside and slap the cuffs on her. I’ll put her in jail for feeding me a good dinner. She’ll probably get five to ten for such a heinous crime.”