1 Sunshine Hunter

by Maddie Cochere

  That was fine with all of us, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  When we parted at the dock, Johnny was subdued, but tried valiantly to put on his drama queen, “Susan, darling,” he said, “I thought I was going to pass out when I saw that shark chewing off your leg. I was sure we’d seen the last of you when the ocean swallowed you up.” He air kissed me on both cheeks. “I’m so glad you lived through the attack!” He gave me an extra big bear hug. I knew he had been terrified through it all, and he was intensely relieved I was safe. “You go back to the hotel and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” He then hugged Darby, gave him air kisses, turned, and walked off the dock. I think he may have started weeping again.

  I still had the blanket from the Irish Wake wrapped around me, my Shark Trek bucket hat was long gone, and I was only wearing one shoe. Darby looked me over, half smiled, and said, “I owe you a pair of shoes.”

  “You bet you owe me a pair of shoes.” I told him.

  “Come on,” he said putting his arm around me. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll get you dried out, get something to eat, and we can talk about what we’re going to do about all of this.”

  We walked up the dock and into the parking lot. Darby pulled the keys to the Taurus out of his pocket and hit the fob to unlock the doors. We turned into the aisle where our car was parked and saw it right away. Four flat tires!

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Darby, what did Johnny mean when he said he would see me in the morning?” I asked with my mouth full of one the best pizzas I had ever eaten.

  We had been back to the hotel for a couple of hours now. After showering and attempting to pack my luggage, I realized we hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and I was starved. The desk clerk recommended we have a pie delivered from Breezi Pizzeria, a little hole-in-the-wall joint a few miles away. It wasn’t a pizza from Ohio that was for sure. Wild mushrooms, ricotta, feta, and parmesan cheeses, and fresh basil; it was fantastic. I reached for another slice.

  “Johnny’s been thinking about taking a few days off to go home and visit his mother, who coincidentally, lives in Cincinnati,” Darby said. “So, he’s flying back with us tomorrow to spend the weekend at my place, and then he’ll drive the four and half hours to Cincinnati to see his mom. He can fly out from there when he’s ready to go back to Florida. After what happened today, I’m sure he can use some time with family.”

  Couldn’t we all, I thought.

  “Listen, Darby, about our flight,” I said. “I’m going to fly out by myself early in the morning.”

  “What? Why?” he asked. “We already have our tickets. We’ll be on our way home soon enough.”

  I shook my head. “I already called to get a flight out this evening, but there wasn’t anything available.” I grabbed a third slice of pizza; I was inhaling this stuff. Between bites I told him, “Think about it. This psycho means business, and it’s deadly business. I’m his target, and he’s been with us every step of the way from the very first day in the restaurant. I don’t want to risk being on an airplane with him. I booked a flight out at 6:00 A.M., so I’ll have to leave the hotel at about 4:30. I’ll have a cab pick me up at the side entrance, and I’ll be out of here and on my way before that nut job even knows I’m gone.” I was contemplating one more piece of pizza, but decided against it. “As soon as I get home, I’ll talk to Detective Bentley and tell him everything I know, including what we know about Wicker Barnes, and that we think he’s responsible for Jerry’s death. He can surely put men at the airport to watch for him when he returns to Ohio.”

  “I don’t like it that you’ll be traveling alone, Susan,” Darby said frowning.

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tried to assure him. “Besides, after everything that’s gone wrong here, I can’t imagine anything on the airplane could be worse than this.”

  “Are you already packed?” he asked.

  “Oh my gosh! I almost forgot. I don’t have room for everything I bought.” I looked at him with a hopeful look and asked, “Do you have any extra room?”

  “Take my suitcase,” he said laughing. He pulled the empty case out from his closet and set it by my door. “I’ll put as much as I can in my carry-on, and I’ll have Johnny bring another small bag for me for the rest. We’ll work it out.”

  “Thanks, Darby,” I said. I gave him a hug and suddenly felt very melancholy. “You’re a good friend. You’re my best friend.” I felt tears start to well up in my eyes. “I’m so sorry I ruined your vacation.”

  “Susan.” He held me by both arms and looked into my eyes, “You didn’t ruin my vacation, and none of this has been your fault.” He kissed me on my nose. “You’re my best friend, too.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a little sniffle. I smiled at him and turned to pick up his suitcase. “I want to call Mick and ask him about Wicker. I should do that now.” I started to close the door between our rooms. “I’m exhausted, and since I have to be up at four, I think I’m going to go to bed after I call.”

  “I’ll get up with you and help you with your luggage,” he said. “I want to be sure you get off ok.”

  “No, I can manage,” I told him. “I think I should be cautious and slip out alone. I’ll text you when I get on the airplane. At least that way, you’ll know I made it ok.”

  “That sounds good. I guess I’ll see you at home tomorrow,” he said.

  “You and Johnny come over around 5:00,” I said. “If I’m not in jail, I’ll make Reuben sandwiches for us.”

  He smiled and nodded his head. I closed the door between our rooms.

  Mick wasn’t expecting me to call. We had agreed to talk on Monday, so I could only hope he would be available and could take my call.

  He answered right away, “Susan,” he said softly. His voice had a quality to it that made me weak in the knees. It seemed like I hadn’t heard it in ages. I sat down on the bed.

  “Hi, Mick. How are you?” I tried to sound cheerful so he wouldn’t notice my intense fatigue.

  “I’m fantastic now that I hear your voice,” he said.

  I smiled. Did men get weak in their knees, too? “Mick, I don’t have a lot of time to talk, but I need to ask you about something. Or tell you about something.” I was probably sounding melodramatic, but I didn’t quite know how to approach the subject.

  “Ok. What’s up?” he asked. He sounded a little guarded.

  “Well, there’s been a guy down here stalking me and Darby. His name is Wicker Barnes,” I paused for a moment, “and Mick, he’s involved over at the Marshall Community Theater.”

  “Stalking you? Are you sure?” he asked surprised. “And how do you know he’s with the theater?”

  “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you about it when I get home, but for now, I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Ok, if I can,” he said.

  “Could you find out if Jenny knows Wicker? Wicker Barnes. And does she know why he’s in Florida right now? This guy is definitely unbalanced,” I paused unsure of how much I wanted to tell him, “and he’s flattened the tires on our car twice.”

  “Are you sure it was him?” he asked.

  “Oh, we’re sure. But Mick, find out if this is guy she’s been seeing. I know you might not want to do that, but something is really wrong here, and anything you can find out would help. He seems to have it out for me in particular.”

  “Susan, has he hurt you? Has he touched you?” he asked with alarm.

  “No, I’m not hurt, and he hasn’t touched me. But I think he could hurt me.” I had to cut this short before I started telling him more than I wanted him to know right now. “I’m leaving early in the morning, so I’ll be home tomorrow. I’m not anticipating any more problems while we’re here, but if you find out anything over the weekend, please let me know.”

  “Ok, I’ll see what I can find out, but please be careful.” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “I can’t wait to see you again. Is Monday still ok?”

  I smiled throug
h the phone and said, “Monday will be wonderful.”

  We said our good-byes and hung up.

  I finished packing and climbed into bed. I went over the day’s events in my mind. I nearly lost my life today, but I didn’t feel any anxiety over it at the moment. It was all so surreal when it was happening, and it seemed so far away. Maybe a year from now, this would be one of those things Darby and I would die laughing over. Maybe. I settled down deeper onto the pillows. Right now, all I cared about was that I would be home soon, and I would be home with Mick.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sitting in my car again felt like a warm hug. I loved this car. My dad and Harold were like two little kids when they decided to restore old muscle cars. Mom had been after Dad for weeks after he retired to “find something to do!” I think he was driving her crazy following her around the house.

  Harold had a ’68 Mustang in his garage and asked Dad to help him restore it. It only took them a couple of months to complete the work, and it turned out gorgeous. Harold drove that car around town as proud as a peacock in the driver’s seat. When a man contacted Harold about restoring his Camaro, a restoration business was born. Dad and Harold had a blast working on the cars and would only take on a project if they deemed the car to have muscle. When Dad came across the ’67 Chevelle SS in a junkyard, he had to have it, and the two of them restored it. So, there was Harold driving the Mustang and Dad driving the Chevelle. We were worried they would start drag racing. The two cars could be seen together all over town, and they had a lot of fun showing them off. I was shocked and delighted when Dad gave the car to me last year for my 27th birthday.

  I turned the key and smiled at the sound of the aggressive engine. I backed out of the carport. I had been home for almost two hours now, and it was time to take care of some business.

  My flight home had been completely uneventful. I didn’t see anyone at all as I slipped out the side door of the hotel to the cab, and I spent most of the time on the flight reading a book. After a short cab ride home, I was ready to face the music with the police.

  I was on my way to see Detective Bentley, but decided first to make a pit stop at the racquetball club first. I wanted to pick up my gym bag and take a quick look around. It was only noon, but maybe someone would be there who had some information on how the interviews had gone with the detective. Any heads-up I could get before going downtown would be helpful.

  It was a little unsettling to pull up in front of the club. My heart was still heavy for Jerry and my inadvertent part in his death. If only I had pitched that glass of juice, but it wasn’t the first time I’d left drinks for Jerry, or shared a drink with Samantha, or drank from Husky’s water bottle. We were a pretty relaxed bunch.

  There was a new face behind the front desk. She was an older woman, and there was definitely no athletic build on her. She could be anybody’s mother, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she had cookies behind the counter to give to me. I smiled at my own wit. I was just so happy to be home.

  “Hi,” I addressed her. “I’m Susan Hunter. I work here, too.”

  “Oh, Susan!” she exclaimed as she ran around from behind the counter to give me a big hug. “I’m so happy to meet you. Stan and Louise have told me so much about you. Isn’t it dreadful everything that’s been happening around here? And I’m so sorry everyone thinks you murdered Jerry, but Stan and Louise know that’s not true, and it’s all a big mistake. I’m Sophie. What can I do for you, dear?”

  Oh my gosh! I didn’t know what to make of this whirling dervish. Where were the cookies? I couldn’t get past the fact she said everyone thought I murdered Jerry. Was that true? How did that get out?

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sophie,” I said and smiled at her. “I just stopped by to pick up my gym bag. I accidentally left it here last Saturday. It’s probably in the office.” I started to walk toward the office door.

  “Check the schedule while you’re in there,” she called after me. “Louise said you’ll be closing tonight.”

  What? I was scheduled to work tonight? I just got home. “Do you know why I’m working this weekend?” I asked her. “Wasn’t anybody else available?”

  “Oh, we’re terribly short-handed here,” she said. “A couple of the day girls quit. They were awfully spooked by the murder. Louise said to tell you she’s hired someone to close the club on nights, but he can’t start until Monday, so she put you on the schedule for tonight and tomorrow night. I was supposed to call you later today, but now that you’re here, I just told you.” She was all smiles and seemed very proud of herself.

  My head was starting to hurt. I mustered a smile, “Will you be working here permanently, Sophie?” I needed to know if I should change clubs.

  “Oh, no. I work in the cafeteria over at Carbide Elementary. I’m off for the summer, of course, so I told Louise I would fill in for her while she’s short-handed. I must say, it’s much easier working here than in the cafeteria, but the food isn’t as good.”

  I went into the office, but didn’t see my bag. I looked behind the desk, around the filing cabinet, even under a pile of stray towels. What were they doing in here? Things were definitely not as organized as they were a week ago. I finally found my bag shoved into the small storage closet. I almost missed it as it had been wedged between some boxes. I was slightly indignant. I hadn’t had time to put the clean clothes in my locker, and they were probably wrinkled by now. I wouldn’t have treated someone else’s personal belongings like this. I glanced at the schedule and saw I was penciled in from 9:00 P.M. until 1:00 A.M. It was going to be a long night.

  I said good-bye to Sophie, tossed my bag into the back seat of my car, and slipped behind the wheel. I pushed in the 8-track tape, and the sounds of The Doors singing Light My Fire filled the car. I loved that Dad had left a cache of 8-track tapes with music from 1967 in the car. Hearing the raspy voice of Jim Morrison singing to me, asking me to light his fire made me smile, and made Sophie and her non-cookies disappear.

  It was time to stop dawdling and head downtown to see Detective Bentley.

  The downtown area was only fifteen minutes from the club. Carbide City was founded in the mid-1800s, and many of the buildings had been restored in the past fifty years. Some of the architecture was stunning. The Catholic church had been built in a black Victorian Gothic style. The exterior of the church was impressive with large stained glass windows, pointed arched openings, and intricate iron lacework. Many of the old buildings had Greek or Romanesque styles with American designs. One beautiful old farmhouse bordering on the downtown area had been a stop on the Underground Railroad. It was a lovely older town with a lot of rich history to offer if one took the time to look for it.

  Because of urban sprawl and shopping malls, I didn’t get downtown as much as I used to. When I was younger, my mother and I would make a special day of it, coming downtown to shop the myriad of stores and have lunch.

  As I cruised into the downtown area, I felt nostalgic. I had taken a cue from Darby and had the windows down, making it easier to take in the familiar sights and sounds. It was hot today, but not nearly has hot and humid as it had been in Florida.

  A sudden wave of unease swept over me, and even though I had nothing to hide, I realized I was suddenly very nervous about walking into the police station as a murder suspect. What if I never came out? I wished Darby were here with me to talk to the detective. He could help explain the events in Florida. Duh! Why didn’t I think of that before? He and Johnny would be landing soon; maybe I should come back later. No, I wanted to get this over.

  The police station didn’t have a parking lot, so I would have to park on the street. The spaces directly in front of the station were reserved for police cars, so I ended up driving around the block a couple of times waiting for a space to open across the street.

  When one opened up, I performed a fine job of parallel parking between a plain white delivery van and a Chevy Suburban. I grabbed my purse, reached for the door handle, and stopped col
d. Coming out of the coffee shop just ahead was the Thursday night man. He was wearing white pants and a white shirt. He wasn’t smiling, he kept his head down, and he got into the delivery van in front of me. He pulled out into traffic. I had to follow him.

  My red Chevelle was not a good car for being discreet. I kept several cars between us so as not to draw attention. Traffic was moving slowly through town, so it was easy to keep the white van in sight. He turned west onto Old Carbide Rd. and proceeded to head up over the viaduct into the oldest section of town.

  This was not a seedy part of town, but the homes were older and had not been restored or even as well maintained as in other parts of town. Some lawns were manicured, while others were unkempt. The neighborhood was a mix of middle and lower middle class families.

  The white van pulled into a small parking lot and drove around behind a plain yellow brick building. I continued on and turned around at a gas station one block down the street. I drove past the building slowly, and saw the van parked at the back. There was a sign on the door, Ferange’s Bakery. A small OPEN sign hung below the name. I had been so intent on watching the van, I hadn’t seen either of the signs on my first pass.

  I parked on the street a few yards up from the bakery and decided to go in. I still thought the man had something suspicious to do with Jerry - like drug dealing and supplying him with steroids.

  The old building was cool inside – almost chilly. The large floor space was open and bare. On the left wall and the facing wall were two bakery cases displaying donuts, cakes, and cookies. Signs on the walls behind them announced prices and information about special orders. The lighting gave the room a dingy feel, but upon closer inspection, it was obvious everything was clean and spotless. To the right of the main case was a set of stairs leading upward to a closed door. The wall to the right was lined with large boxes of supplies stacked about ten high. I suspected the drugs the man was peddling were in some of these boxes. He was smart hiding the evidence in plain sight.