Louder Than Words

by Brett Baker

  “That’s it!” Leona yelled. She no longer seemed to worry about whether anyone else in the vicinity heard our conversation. “You’ve asked the same question half a dozen times, and no matter how many times you ask it, my answer isn’t going to change. Now if you have business that I can help you with, then please let me know. Otherwise, I have to get back to work.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you so flustered,” I said, taking a step back and putting my hands in front of me as if to apologize. “It’s just a question. Just a question.”

  “I’m not flustered,” Leona said, all evidence to the contrary.

  I smiled. “Really? Hmm. I must have misinterpreted every fiber of your being just now. Because you sure looked like someone who became very flustered when I mentioned the name Martin Coulson.”

  “You keep asking me about the same person,” Leona said. “We don’t have anything on him, and you don’t seem to understand that. You’re like a child who keeps asking the same question over and over again.”

  “Leona, you need to do better with your public service interaction. I understand that dealing with people can be frustrating, but you’re the public face here at the courthouse, and the people who ask you questions are taxpayers who pay your salary, so you can’t really fly off the handle just because someone is being persistent. Maybe you’re not cut out for a job that’s heavy on public interaction.” Leona glared at me, and again looked around. One of Leona’s co-workers nearby rose from her seat, as if she intended to come intervene, but Leona waved her off. Before Leona could say anything, I continued. “I could be wrong though. Maybe you’re a pleasant person and you don’t mind persistent questions from citizens who just need information. If that’s the case, then I guess the only other explanation is that the name Martin Coulson strikes a nerve in you. You’re pleasant as long as I don’t mention that name. The moment I say the name you become more tense. I don’t know if you notice or not, but I do. I noticed it yesterday when I came here. So which is it, Leona? Do you need to find a new line of work, or do you know something about Martin Coulson that you’re not sharing?”

  “Look, Ms. Mathis, I’m sorry if you think that I’m rude. I don’t mean to be. I’ve been doing this job many years, and I encounter many people who are sure that I don’t know how to do my job simply because I can’t give them the information they’re seeking. If the information doesn’t exist, it doesn’t exist.”

  “Yes, you said that before,” I interrupted.

  “Then I hope you understand my frustration. You can say the name Martin Coulson as many times as you’d like, but that’s not going to change the fact that we have no information on him. I resent your implication that I’m holding something back. I’ve told you the truth. It’s up to you whether to believe it or not.”

  “Understood,” I said. I turned and walked away without thanking Leona, or saying goodbye. An abrupt departure is often more jarring that any threat I can make. I’d come to my own conclusion about Leona based on my years of experience with The Summit. Her discomfort every time that I mentioned Coulson’s name wasn’t coincidental. If she didn’t want to give me the information I needed, then I’d have to find it another way. But I’d overcome bureaucratic roadblocks setup by people much smarter and more resourceful than Leona. As is so often the case, Leona could make my job difficult, but she couldn’t stop me.

  Chapter 14

  Two miles outside of Cross City, near an old lodge built as part of a long-defunct company town, sat a drive-up burger stand. The building looked like it had just received a fresh coat of blue paint, and the neon sign that read Don’s Drive-In glowed blue and red out front, despite the bright Florida sunshine. The aluminum canopy needed some attention though, as its own blue paint flaked, and metal support posts corroded. No chance the canopy would survive even the smallest hurricane.

  I’d followed Leona from the courthouse to the burger stand at the end of her work day. I would have preferred to listen to her phone calls, or monitor her e-mails, but without the capability to do so, following her was the next best thing. I prefer surveillance in an urban environment because it’s much easier to follow someone on foot than it is in a car, especially in a rural place like Dixie County. Had Leona paid attention to her rearview mirror, she might have noticed the same car turning off of the road into a parking lot, only to turn back onto the road seconds later. Or she might have noticed aggressive lane changes and passing of other cars to make up lost ground. But most people only worry about cars nearby, so I doubt Leona saw me as I pulled into the parking lot of the lodge, and parked in a space that provided a clear line of sight toward the burger stand through the forested grounds of the lodge.

  I hoped to follow Leona home so that I’d know where to go the following day while she was at work. A quick run-through of her house might produce some sort of angle to pursue, but if nothing else it’d provide a glimpse into Leona’s personality. She struck me as someone with information rather than involvement, but I’d been wrong about that before. After she picked up some food at the burger stand I’d hang back and let her lead me home.

  My plan changed when she got out of her car, ordered a drink from the stand, and sat down at one of the picnic tables near the back of the property. A minute later a tall, lean man exited a car and walked to the picnic table. He exchanged a hug with Leona that looked platonic, and then sat down across from her. She began talking, and he listened, nodding his head, interjecting a few times. Leona spoke for about five minutes, her hands moving this way and that the entire time. The man sat motionless throughout, except for the head nods. When Leona finished speaking the man spoke for a few seconds, stood up, hugged Leona once again, and then walked her to her car. They didn’t appear to say a word when they reached the car. Instead, Leona opened the door, got in, and backed out of her parking space. I watched as she left the burger stand, but instead of following her, I decided to follow the man she met. Neither of them ordered food, and they spent only enough time together for Leona to tell him whatever she had to tell him. Theirs wasn’t a chance encounter, but rather something that had been arranged. Their interaction didn’t seem intimate enough to suggest a sexual affair, so I suspected they weren’t headed to the same place. I could follow Leona home from work the following day, but this might be the only chance I got to follow her friend, so my choice was easy.

  The man drove a black Mercedes, a high-end S-class, the sort of car so fancy it comes only in black, white, or silver, as if color isn’t sophisticated. This particular model cost more than most homes in Dixie County.

  As the man turned out of the burger stand parking lot, I approached the road at the lodge, and watched him pass, but his tinted windows blocked any chance I had to identify him, not that I’d recognize him anyway. Something told me he might be more aware of surveillance than Leona, so I decided to hang back even farther. I risked losing him, but I assumed there weren’t many Mercedes driving the streets of Cross City, so he shouldn’t be too difficult to find. He headed back toward town, driving at ridiculous speeds for a couple of miles, but slowing down as soon as he entered the town and the speed limit reduced. He caught the first stoplight in town, and despite hanging back, I ended up just four cars behind him. When the light turned green I saw little oncoming traffic, so I made a left turn into a school parking lot. If he had noticed me driving behind him, then perhaps seeing me turn off of the road would make him think he didn’t have to worry about me following him, and he’d stop monitoring me. I made a quick turn back onto the road, and saw him stopped at another red light farther ahead. The light turned green as I approached, and he drove off, accelerating more than necessary, before braking, swerving into the turn lane, and making a quick left turn near the Church of Christ. Since I’d become a bit familiar with the simple grid system of roads in Cross City, I knew that the road at the intersection where he’d just stopped at the light would lead into the same area as the road on which he had turned a half-mile ahead. I made a lef
t turn, then a right, just in time to see him cross in front of me four blocks ahead. I drove faster than I should have through a residential area, and made a left turn after a cursory stop at a stop sign whose post stood in the middle of a stack of six tires that reached the bottom of the sign.

  I followed behind for three blocks, and when he signaled to turn right I made a sharp right turn so that we headed in the same direction, but he didn’t think I was following him. As I approached each intersection I looked to my left to make sure I could see his car driving in the same direction a few blocks away. If he suspected anything unusual, he didn’t express it in the way that he drove. He didn’t seem evasive at all, and when he turned left, I followed suit three blocks behind him. The area seemed familiar to me. Although the densely-wooded, rural landscape had a similar look and feel throughout the neighborhood, and it would have been easy to get turned around, I realized I’d been on the same streets earlier that day. As I watched the Mercedes make a right turn onto a gravel road, I experienced a wave of recognition. Although I lost sight of the Mercedes on the winding road, I knew where we were headed. A final straightaway led right to the familiar paved driveway where Cooper Oswalt lived. I passed the driveway, and when I rounded the bend immediately after, and saw an empty, straight road that extended for two miles ahead, I knew the Mercedes went to the Oswalt house.

  Chapter 15

  I returned to the El Hombre, parked in front of my room, and walked over to the office and went inside. Ashtray didn’t greet me, so I called out, “Hello?”

  A few seconds later her gravel-soaked voice responded, “Wait a goddamn minute, I’m coming. Why do you have to be in such a hurry?”

  “No one’s in a hurry,” I said. “I just didn’t know if you were here.”

  “I’m here,” she said, as she emerged from behind the curtain that separated the ashtray-filled counter and lobby from whatever private quarters existed in the back. “I’m here, and now I’m here.” She pointed to the floor and then looked down at her shoes. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve had an interesting day in Cross City,” I said.

  “Oh Jesus Christ. I think you’re the first person to ever say that. Interesting and Cross City don’t usually go together. Does that mean you’re going to stay another night?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  “Smart move,” Ashtray said. “You can’t beat our hospitality.” She smiled, and I considered telling her that despite her hospitality someone tried to murder me last night, but I thought it might be better to keep that to myself. “How many more nights?”

  “Can I get a week? Is there a discount for that?”

  “Sure, we’ll do a discount for a week. How about $511?”

  “What’s the regular nightly rate?” I asked.

  “It’s $73. That’s what you paid to stay the last two nights. You should pay attention to your finances. You’ll end up in trouble if you don’t.” She nodded as if to reassure me, and I declined to challenge her contention that she gave me a discount by charging me the full rate for seven nights.

  I gave her the full amount, watched her count it twice, and then asked, “Did anyone come looking for me today?”

  “I don’t think so. Why are you so concerned about people looking for you? I’ll give you this room for a week, but if you cause any problems I’ll kick your ass out before you know what happened. This is a quiet place, and I’d like it to remain so. If you attract bullshit then I’ll give you this money back right now and you can go somewhere else.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I said. “No one knows I’m here. I would have been alarmed if anyone came looking for me. And surprised. But I met this guy when I went out for dinner last night, and we hit it off, but then he didn’t give me his number. Part of me hoped that he showed up during the day.”

  “No such luck, Cinderella. You can’t play that coy bullshit with men. You want a man? You tell that sonofabitch you want him. They’re too damn dumb to understand hints and innuendo. Tell him that you want him, and then bring him back to your room and show him. That’s why these damn rooms have doors and curtains on them. Everyone needs a little privacy.”

  I laughed and thanked Ashtray for her advice.

  “Just don’t think about the other people who have used that room and that bed for the same thing. It’ll gross you the hell out if you do.”

  “That’s not something you want to say to guests who are giving you money to stay at your place,” I said. “It makes it seem much less appealing.”

  “Appealing? You think people stay at the El Hombre because it’s appealing? I don’t flatter myself, princess. They stay at the El Hombre because we’re the only game in town. They might try staying at The Pioneer, but as soon as they meet the guy that works the desk they’ll think better of it. That guy’s a regular Norman Bates. He kills his guests.”

  “What? Is that true? How do you know that? Why isn’t he in prison?”

  “It’s probably true,” Ashtray said. “I’ve met him a couple of times and he’s creepy. I’m not going to look for the bodies, but I bet he kills his guests.”

  “Maybe you should put that on a new billboard,” I suggested.

  Ashtray’s face lit up, and she let out a hearty, gravelly laugh. “That’s a hell of an idea! I’ll put up a new billboard, but I’ll put it by his place so anyone who stops there will see it. The biggest billboard in town. Colorful with some glitter or something. And it’ll say, ‘The Pioneer’s owner kills guests. Do you want to live to see the morning? Stay at the El Hombre.’ Wow! You’re more than just a pretty face. I couldn’t be more surprised if I found the guy from The Pioneer naked next to me in bed tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s quite a thought,” I said. “Thanks for the room.”

  I returned to my room, and stood outside the door for a moment to compose myself before entering. Someone had sent two men to kill me, and they failed, but I had no reason to believe that the person who wanted me dead yesterday had experienced a change of heart. I figured the odds were at least 50/50 that someone on the other side of the door would try to kill me as soon as I walked in.

  Perhaps the single largest side effect of working for The Summit was that no matter where I went I always assumed I was about to get attacked. Paranoia didn’t consume me, but rather I felt like I always had to be ready to defend myself, so I could subdue an enemy with an overwhelming assertion of targeted fury. More than a few bad guys had experienced a quick change of fortune. One moment they assumed that they’d be able to pulverize me simply because I’m a woman, but the next minute they often found themselves in a subservient position, sometimes unable to breathe.

  So when I opened the door to my room, I did so by throwing it open, and jumping off to the side, out of the line of fire. I took a deep breath, and then stood in the open doorway just long enough to let a potential gunman get a good look at me, and pull the trigger, but also with enough herky-jerky movement so the shooter couldn’t get a good look, and would end up missing. With no shots fired I peeked around the corner of the door, and into the room. It looked empty, so I proceeded inside. After looking under the bed, and in the closet, I checked the bathroom, and felt a wave of relief to find no one.

  There’s a moment during every mission with The Summit where something happens that forces the truth of a situation to reveal itself. Often, I don’t realize the event when it happens. Sometimes only after a mission has concluded can I look back and pinpoint the moment when everything began to come together.

  Following Cooper Oswalt’s dad home after he met with Leona felt like that moment. Leona had become irritated with my inquiry about Coulson, she acted uncomfortable when I mentioned Cooper’s name, and then she met with Cooper’s dad. Those facts alone might not reveal anything about the situation, but when considered with the fact that two men who tried to kill me after I asked about Coulson just happened to drive Cooper’s car, it seemed Cooper’s dad had some connection to Coulson. As I sat in my ho
tel room, thankful to be alone, and not filled with bullets, I pondered my next move.

  Chapter 16

  After considering everything I knew from all angles, I decided that I needed to talk to Cooper again. His story of getting drunk and leaving his car at Miller’s the previous night, and letting two women he’d just met drive him home, seemed a bit suspect. I had no doubt that Cooper was careless enough to do such a thing, but he seemed too unconcerned by the cigarettes left in his car. A smoker wouldn’t leave cigarettes and a nice Zippo lighter behind. And since I found two different brands of cigarettes, it’s even less likely that two smokers would leave them behind. And when I told him that I’d found his car along the side of the road after leaving my motel room, he stuck to the story he had created in his mind that he must have left it at Miller’s.

  He didn’t seem like a hardened criminal. He seemed like a man in a sort of extended childhood, to whom everything had been given. His life seemed too easy for him to bother getting wrapped up in any sort of criminal enterprise, although I didn’t discount the possibility that he became involved by accident. He seemed quite naïve, so I had to make sure he wasn’t involved in something without knowing what was happening.

  I knew he went out many evenings, so I decided to see if I could track him down to talk to him. Since I’d already been there twice that day, I had no problem finding his house. I drove past the driveway, and parked just around the bend on the desolate stretch of road that extended south. Parking on the shoulder provided a bit of cover from cars that left the driveway, but I could still watch them leave. The angle of the driveway in relation to the road made it easier for cars exiting the driveway to go in the direction opposite me, so I didn’t worry about anyone passing me.