by Randy Rawls
“I can’t—” That’s as far as I got before his hand gripped mine.
“You can, and you will. Be generous to yourself. I owe you.”
Maddy sat beside him, beaming. “When you’re next in New York, everything is on me—and I do mean everything.”
“But—”
“Hush,” Hammonds said. “I don’t have much time, and we have other business.” He pushed a second check toward me.
I picked it up. This time, the payee line was blank, but it was signed and made out in the amount of fifty thousand dollars.
“That’s for your friends,” John said. “I don’t know their names, so I’ll leave it up to you to spread it around as you see fit.” He stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to sit beside my daughter until she wakes up.” He offered his right hand.
Tears threatened to overwhelm me as I remembered my first meeting with this man. I had suspected him of killing his wife and maid. How wrong could I have been? I shook his hand, then moved around the table. “A handshake is not enough. I need a hug.”
He complied, which was almost too much for my overloaded tear ducts. As he left the kitchen, he stopped, and turned back to me. “If you ever need anything, and there are no limits on that, you’d better come to me first. I’d offer you a well-paying job, but I don’t think you’d enjoy working my side of the street. I’ll tell your boss, Sly Bergstrom, though. He’d better treat you right.”
“I do have one other small thing, if you don’t mind.”
He stopped and came back to me. “Name it.”
“The woman who was wounded at the house, the one they found outside. Her name is Dabba. She’s a friend and was instrumental in rescuing Ashley. She has no money for hospital bills and no defense against the police—if they decide to charge her with anything.” I was thinking about the gun she’d been carrying—the one I didn’t grab because my mind was wrapped around searching for Ashley. My last recollection was it had fallen by her side. “Can you help her?”
“Consider it done. I’ll take care of her. Anything else?”
“No.” I tried to smile, but my face refused. Instead, I cracked, and the tears ran as he headed back to be with Ashley. Maddy took me into her arms, and I heard her sniffling, too. “He means it, and so do I. You’re the kid sister we never had.”
_____
When I entered Dabba’s room at the hospital, I wasn’t surprised to find Dot sitting beside her bed. Dot looked clean and refreshed and wore her damn greeter outfit. Dabba appeared to be sleeping.
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
“Nurse says fine. The bullet gave her a new part in her hair, then the doctor shaved most of her head so he could do some sewing. She won’t be happy when she looks in a mirror.”
“Somehow, I don’t think she was all that vain about her appearance. She’ll probably just jam on a hat until it grows out. In fact, that could improve her looks.” I smiled to reinforce the joke.
“Hey, can’t a girl get no rest in this place?” Dabba said. “I’m trying to sleep here. And I ain’t got no hat. Gonna buy me one?”
“Any kind you want,” I said. “If you hadn’t taken that bitch out, Dot and I would be alligator wrestling—or being digested. Now explain why you’ve been listening to every word we said without letting on you’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Good. They got some mighty fine happy-juice here. You oughta try it. In fact, you look like you need it more than I do. Did you get Ashley back?”
I started. It was the first time she’d said Ashley instead of Linda. Whatever, I wasn’t going there. “Yes. She’s fine. Her father took her home. She was asleep in her own bed when I left his house.” I looked hard at Dabba. Her eyes were clear. If she was drugged, it didn’t show.
“I’m glad.” A tear slithered from her eye, and disappeared into the pillow. “I ain’t never gonna see Linda again, am I?”
I looked at Dot, who leaned forward and took Dabba’s hand. “Dearie, she’s gone. It’s been too long. She ain’t never coming back.”
Dabba turned her eyes on me.
I nodded.
“I s’pose I knew that,” she said. “But I been dreamin’ so long, it’s hard to stop. Do you reckon it’s alright if I just keep thinkin’ she’s alive, still out there somewhere? As long as I keep lookin’, I got a reason to live. It won’t hurt nobody, will it?”
“No one can take away our dreams,” I said.
Dot kissed her on the cheek.
_____
My next stop was Bobby’s Bar. En route, I called and Judy said he was on his corner, peddling newspapers. I asked her to have him meet me at the bar. She was reluctant until I explained that I had something for him—something he’d want.
When he came through the door, and I handed him the check Hammonds gave me, his eyes almost bugged out. “I can’t take this. It’s … it’s …”
“Preposterous?” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s an excellent word for it.”
“Doesn’t matter. John Hammonds is a rich man who takes care of those he cares about. You and your people now fall under that umbrella. Use the money to help them. He’ll feel like he’s paying a portion of a debt. Make us all feel better.”
_____
I went home and slept eighteen straight hours. I may have smiled the whole time. I had made mistakes in the Ashley Hammonds case, but none that affected the outcome. I was one proud private investigator. In the shower, I sang so loud my neighbors might have thought I’d lost my sanity.
David made it home Monday afternoon, and we celebrated being together again, celebrated several times that night. For reasons I couldn’t understand, he seemed surprised I wasn’t injured—not even a single lump on my head.
On Tuesday, David and I headed for Orlando where I introduced him to Mom and Ike.
Ike shook his hand while eyeing him like a father checking out his daughter’s first date. Apparently, he still had his protective wings spread over me.
David passed Mom’s inspection without a hitch. After all, he was a doctor.
the end
Ronnie Bender
About the Author
Randy Rawls is a retired U.S. Army officer and Department of Defense civilian. He is the multi-published author of the Ace Edwards, Dallas PI series, as well as of short stories in various anthologies and Thorns on Roses, a South Florida thriller. Living in South Florida, where fact and fiction run together, gives him a rich environment in which to harvest plots. He smiles because life is fun.
