3 A Brewski for the Old Man

by Phyllis Smallman

  The three of them went into gales of hilarity. Bernice’s face was full of joy — for one fleeting second Jimmy had come back to her.

  “Did you try the pot roast?” I asked Tully.

  “Yup, best I ever had, better than Grandma Jenkins’ and that’s saying a lot.”

  I went to tell Gwen it would be a while yet before the table was free.

  C H A P T E R 4 4

  Tully came into the bar and looked around. “Jeff, I’m going out,” I said.

  “Okay,” Jeff replied without looking up from the mixer. I went to join Tully.

  “I just came in to say goodnight,” Tully told me.

  “I’ll walk out with you.”

  We went outside to the railed landing with the broad steps down to the parking lot. I never take the elevator, that tiny little thing scares the life out of me, but when I led the way outside it occurred to me that maybe Tully shouldn’t be using the stairs, even going down. I still hadn’t read the pamphlet on angina I’d swiped from his truck. Damn, I didn’t even know where I’d left it, bad daughter, horrible child that I am.

  Out on Soldaat Lake I’d seen a side of Tully, a tender side, I’d never seen before, and decided he was sick, maybe even dying. Nothing else could explain it. “Do you want to take the elevator?” I asked.

  “Why?”

  “It’s late, you’ve had a busy day, no matter that you’ve just survived Bernice.”

  “She’s all right, you know, just wanted to talk about Jimmy, listen to stories. I guess that’s all she has left. Horrible thing to lose a child. I don’t think Jimmy was going around to see them much at the end. They bought dinner, they were just so grateful to talk about Jimmy and so was I.” Tully laughed softly. “I loved that boy, more fun than a sack of monkeys.”

  “And more trouble.”

  “Ease up now, girl. He wasn’t all bad.”

  “Just mostly.”

  “Well, time to forgive him and get on with your life.” I didn’t even ask what that meant. I only said, “How’s Uncle Ziggy making out? I didn’t go see him today.” More guilt to pile on guilt.

  “Doing okay, stronger, but still the pain is bad.”

  “When can he come home?”

  “Few days yet.”

  “The den will be ready. There’s a TV and he can sit on the lanai and watch the beach. Someone will have to come in everyday to do the medical stuff. I’d be dead awful at that.” “Well,” he said, “if you want to do it.”

  “I do. That’s what families are for, isn’t it, to help each other through stuff in the best of times and the worst of times?” “It’s hardly that,” he said. “Hardly the worst of times.”

  “Bad enough, but we’ll get through it, one way or another.” I didn’t think either of us was talking about Uncle Ziggy. He reached out and patted my shoulder and then ambled over towards the stairs.

  “Are you sure you don’t want the elevator?”

  “Not dead yet, even if I’m not the man I once was.”

  “Daddy, I’m thinking you never were the man you once was.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  I had to do something about this annoying habit of sweet names real soon — he was beginning to take them for granted.

  He started down the stairs and I called out to him, “Did you find the guy who hired the Ohio goons?”

  “Yup.” He turned on the step and looked back up at me with a grin on his face.

  “Anyone die, anything burn up?”

  “Nope.”

  “So everything turned out fine?”

  “Well, enough so’s an anonymous donor paid Zig’s hospital bill today.”

  “Good for you, Daddy.”

  “Told you I wasn’t dead yet.”

  When I went back inside, Styles was waiting for me. Seems he wasn’t afraid of confined spaces.

  C H A P T E R 4 5

  “Let’s go to my office,” I said, not wanting to be seen with a cop any more than necessary. Everyone would be guessing what I’d done this time and if he’d come to arrest me. They’d be leaning in real close to get an earful, something juicy and colorful that they could distort, embellish and pass along. Having a colorful reputation was no longer one of my aspirations but something I was stuck with.

  I led the way down the hall, asking over my shoulder, “Eaten yet?”

  “Yeah, but I could use a coffee.”

  In the office I called the kitchen and then leaned on my desk and waited as he made himself comfortable. He hadn’t stopped by for idle chit-chat, the meat of the matter came out immediately.

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was Lacey Cagel who drove the truck out to the Preserves?”

  I sat down behind my desk and tried to think of a safe reply, but he didn’t really expect an answer and this was only the start of his rant on all the mistakes I’d made in the past few days. I was waiting for him to tell me I was being arrested for unlawfully carrying a gun while my brain veered off topic and started figuring out who could replace me at the Sunset until Brian Spears bailed me out. How long would that take?

  Styles got tired of listing my sins. “I brought Lacey Cagel in for questioning again today and she broke down and told me that she’d taken the truck out to the Preserves, said she told Leenders that if he didn’t keep his hands off her she’d have him charged.” He looked at me expectantly, as if he were waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

  “And did her threat scare him off?”

  “She seemed to think so.”

  “So she would have no reason to kill him if he wasn’t going to bother her anymore.” Could both Lacey and I wiggle out that easy?

  “You and I both know that isn’t how it works. Just because the abuse stops, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to kill him. He stole her youth, her very life, and it wasn’t coming back. She was still angry, and killing him was a real possibility. Even now, couldn’t you kill him?”

  I shook my head. “No.” I hadn’t realized it was true until the words popped out of my mouth. The hate that burned for so long had turned to ashes. “Ray John was in the past. There are more important things in my life now and I haven’t the energy to be angry anymore.” And how about Jimmy, was I still mad at my lying, cheating, scam artist husband or was I nearing that place where I could make peace with that part of the past as well — interesting question to be considered on those nights when sleep wouldn’t come. “That doesn’t mean when it came up again it didn’t still hurt, but I was way past shooting Ray John.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me Lacey took your truck?” Styles seemed very calm, not annoyed or even upset, just weary and a smidge frustrated, inviting me to share everything — all friends together.

  Yeah right — even sleeping dogs can jump up and bite you. “I left it up to Lacey. I knew she’d tell you sooner or later.” It sounded very noble. I hoped he was impressed. I had no idea if Lacey would come clean. I’d have continued pleading ignorance until the judge delivered the sentence. I always go on the ignorance-is-bliss theory until proven very, very wrong and I can play shocked surprise as well as Meryl Streep can.

  “You made me waste a lot of time. I could charge you with obstruction.”

  I pushed back my swivel chair. “You knew the truck was at the Preserves. You knew more about that than I did. I don’t know who killed Ray John. Personally, I was hoping you’d arrest Marley. That would have been so much fun.”

  He rewarded me with a faint smile. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  For once I honestly couldn’t think of anything except the fact that my gun was missing. Lacey obviously hadn’t told him about the gun or he would have jumped down my throat with both feet. And for sure I was keeping that bit of news to myself.

  “Anita Charters has a gun. She came in tonight, got blasted and let her hair down. Great thing about a bar, sooner or later you get to hear all the secrets.” He thought about it and then gave a little determined nod. “And another thing, ask her how…” There
was one sharp rap on the door before it opened and Gwen Morrison sashayed in with a tray. It was a great production, tray held high, hips swaying, very femme fatale. Gwen and I shared a love of old movies, throwing out quotes and characters for the other to guess, so I knew she was riffing on the silver screen but had no idea who she was trying to be or maybe she’d just lost her hold on reality. In the Sunset it wouldn’t be hard to do.

  “You’re working in the wrong place with that act,” I told her. “You haven’t any place for him to stuff a dollar.”

  “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Gwen said and set the tray down. She smiled at Styles and slowly poured him a cup of coffee. “So nice to see you again, officer.” She handed him his coffee and then swayed to the door. “If you want anything else just whistle. You do know how to whistle, don’t you?” She gave him one last long lingering smile over her shoulder. “You just put your lips together and blow,” she added before she closed the door.

  I pointed a finger at the door and said, “Lauren Bacall, I’m sure she’s doing Lauren Bacall. But what movie?” “What are you talking about?”

  “Gwen, that bit she just did at the door, she was doing Lauren Bacall but from what movie?” His gaseous look said he’d lost the thread of the conversation or I needed a new coffee bean supplier. I tried again. “It was from the movie with Bogie, South America and she had a hat.” I deepened my voice and said, “If you want anything, just whistle. You do know how to whistle, don’t you?”

  His eyes grew rounder and I could see he was wondering how long I’d been off my medication.

  “Oh never mind.” I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Where were we?”

  “You said there was something else I should ask Anita Charters about, what was it?”

  I sat perfectly still and concentrated. Whatever I wanted to ask him was gone. “Her ability with a gun, maybe? You might even ask to see her handgun.”

  His pained look went away. Now it was all sweetness and light on his face. How wonderful it was for him to have a new suspect. Maybe I’d just dropped a notch on his list of who done it. If I could just give him enough names I might drop to say, number ten. Number ten would be safe, wouldn’t it? I wanted to be safe. Who else could I throw at him? I’d give it some thought. Gwen was a possibility or maybe I could just pick some names out of the telephone book and keep him busy for a while.

  “Is that all I should ask Mrs. Charters about?” Styles asked, “What else haven’t you told me?”

  I tried to remember. Somewhere, between Lauren Bacall and where I was on the murder list, it had slipped away. This had been happening a lot lately and I was getting really concerned about it, one more thing for my worry list. “It’s gone. I’ll call you when it comes back.”

  I offered the small plate of open-faced sandwiches Isaak had sent along. “Thia’s supposed to be a rather good shot like her mother. Can you check out Anita’s gun registration to see if her gun fits the caliber of the murder weapon?”

  “I wish you’d mind your own business,” Styles said.

  “This is my business, remember? You’d never have known about Ray John’s past without me and you’ve still got me down as a suspect. Don’t deny it.” “I’m not denying it.”

  “Don’t overdo making me feel better.” He grinned. “Okay, how about this. I’ll take you off the top of the list.”

  “Gee, thanks, and while you’re at it, when you go to see Anita, don’t let on you heard it from me, about her gun. Could you pretend it was a man who told you? Make it a lawyer, yeah, that would work, he told you because he’s an officer of the court. Tell her he was the guy who helped her off her barstool.”

  “Why do you care if she knows you were the one who told me about the gun?”

  “Well, the number one reason — where I come from, you never, ever snitch, even if someone sets your pants on fire. And the second reason is I’m in the restaurant business. Like once, I saw this woman putting the salt and pepper shakers from the table into her purse. I started over to rip her head off and Miss Emma stopped me, said the woman and her friends could cost us a lot more money by bad-mouthing us than the cost of the salt and peppers. Miss Emma even said, ‘Come again, ladies,’ when they went out the door. Can you imagine that? She said if those old bats went out and said how awful the food was, or how terrible the service was and it cost us even one customer, one customer, we were out more than a salt and pepper shaker. When you live or die on the good opinion of others, you have to be real careful what you say and do.” I gave him the evil eye, “Or who you’re seen with.” “Is that why we’re in your office?”

  Damn, I always forget how smart he is. “Yup, don’t be seen alone with a handsome man, rule number one for a virtuous reputation, although in my case it may be a little late for that. My unsullied name took the express out of town when I was about sixteen.”

  “So what does having a handsome man coming out of your office late at night do to your reputation?”

  “Damn.” I gave it a little thought. “I’ll make sure no one’s in the hall before you sneak out. But don’t forget to spread the praises of the Sunset far and wide to make up for all the free stuff I’ve given you. Just get out there and tell everyone how great the food is here, like you just love eating here everyday and bankrupting me.”

  “These sandwiches are really delicious.” He held up an open-faced smoked salmon with cream cheese on pumpernickel, topped with a sprig of dill.

  “Yes, and they whipped them up so quick. Is everyone just sitting around in the kitchen waiting for an order, and if Isaak has time to do up sandwiches, how long before I go bust?” I tried worrying about two things at once. “And how long can I keep such a wonderful chef before someone else offers him more money and steals him away?” “The chopped beef is great,” Styles said.

  “I thought you weren’t hungry.” I moved the plate away. “I was going to wrap them up and take them home for breakfast.”

  “So was I,” he said.

  “What about the guy who found Ray John, what was his name?”

  “Mark Cummings, what about him?”

  “He was the first person there. Maybe he went in and killed him after Lacey left.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What? You really think he did it?”

  “There were issues.”

  “What issues.”

  “End of information.”

  Something else was worrying me. “Did you talk to your daughter about Lacey and me?”

  He wiped his mouth with the linen napkin and sighed. “I tried. She didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Still, I bet she listened. You just have to keep talking about the dangers out there without making her afraid of her own shadow, that’s probably as bad as not saying anything.”

  “I try to talk to them every day even if I don’t see them. My son is always eager to talk, but with my daughter it’s always nothing, nothing and more nothing. Nothing is happening, she’s doing nothing and the news is all nothing.” “But she doesn’t actually hang up, does she?”

  “Not so far.

  “Good, keep calling and keep telling both of them about the dangers that are out there so they know what to look for. Some of it is bound to sink in.” I don’t know why I felt so strongly about this piece of wisdom. Never once has knowing the possible disaster that might occur from my actions…never once has that knowledge stopped me from doing whatever stupid thing I was about to do.

  Best not to share this insight with Styles.

  C H A P T E R 4 6

  Clay called. They were in Cuba and things were not going well.

  “Something about a locker of booze. Seems the Cubans think we were smuggling it into the country although it’s less than half of what we had when we started out. And if we were going to smuggle, sure as hell we could think of something better than booze.” “Is it going to be a problem?”

  “Not sure yet, but there are worse places to be stranded.”

  “Don�
��t start liking it too much, and in case it’s already too late and you’ve decided to stay, let me tell you about a book I’m writing. It’s called A Hundred Things to Do in Bed on a Rainy Afternoon.”

  “How Kama Sutra of you. But I don’t understand, why does it have to be raining?”

  “Don’t distract me with minor points, let me just give you chapter headings so you can get…” I paused so he could picture it, “a feel for the material.”

  I was on the third chapter when he said, “There’s a flight to Toronto leaving at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. From there I can catch a direct flight to Tampa and be home before you turn out your light tomorrow night.”

  “So you’ve already checked this out. Getting a little lonely, are you?”

  “That’s only one of the things I’m getting.”

  “But what about the race?”

  “The rest of the boats will probably leave without us. The authorities aren’t going to release the Legal Dream in time for us to sail with them.”

  “Can they sail Legal Dream home without you?”

  “Sure, if they wait for the right weather, no problem. Two guys can handle her easy to Key West.”

  “Ooh, two guys can handle her easy. Are you talking dirty again?”

  The conversation wallowed in the mud for a bit before I started my confession.

  “Did I ever tell you about my Uncle Ziggy?” I knew full well I hadn’t.

  “What about him?” Clay’s voice had turned suddenly wary and abrupt. The thought of my having family must have really been freaking him out and he hadn’t even met them yet.