Powerboat Racer (River Sunday Romance Mysteries Book 3)

by Thomas Hollyday

  “My feet touched bottom and I began to move with the waves into the swamp. It became dark and I couldn’t see anything. Thunder and lightning were far off but above me was just black night and I’m sure some big clouds blocking out the stars and moon. I got a lot of water in my face each wave. The weather got worse and my hand hurt.

  “Then my feet stuck in that mud and I was sure it was a patch of quicksand. I was being pulled down slowly. I knew the tide would be coming in too without much chance my head could stay above water if I didn’t get out of there pretty soon. I tried yelling for help but the wind was loud and strong. You know, just blowing my words away.

  “The water was getting higher and I tried to force my head up, but all this exertion took my strength. I began to think about giving up, dying. I tried to decide whether I wanted to just go peacefully or fight to the end.

  “About that time I felt a hand pulling on me. At first I had the fear that an animal had got ahold of me because it felt like my shoulder was being grabbed by a pair of claws. Then I thought more and realized that those claws were fingers, that they were the hands of someone who was helping me. Bony too, like a skeleton. This living skeleton had strength though, great strength, and pulled me upward out of the mud and into his boat. When I was aboard I realized the boat was my own.

  “I was weak and almost delirious, snapping in and out of consciousness from the exhaustion of my near drowning. I heard the distant rumble of my engine, and someone was steering my boat through the chop. I passed out again.

  “When I woke up a great flash of lightning outlined this human shape at the back of my boat. The engine was running and the rain was ferocious. I thought how stupid this guy was to be out in the lightning running a boat. I passed out again.

  “The next time I woke up I was surrounded by a group of tourists and I was lying on the town pier near the Kirby marina. My boat was tied up behind me.”

  Senator tapped his fingers on the counter. “Harry, in a couple of weeks I had recovered my strength and my wrist was mending. I went to search the Wilderness for this person who had saved my life. I found nothing. That’s how I know no one was living out there. I covered every inch of that place, scientifically using a map. That shack Cheeks found, where it came from, I don’t know, but I never spotted it when I looked around.”

  “It was covered with vines and hard to see,” said Harry.

  “I might have missed it, Harry, but I’m telling you I’ve been around that Wilderness Swamp all my life. I would have seen anything alive up there.”

  “Who saved your life?” asked Harry.

  He smiled and added, “I’m not suggesting that person was Walker, or his ghost. It could have been just a kindly person who didn’t stay around to get my thanks.”

  “Where do you think the person disappeared to?”

  “He must have swum back somewhere.”

  Harry said, “He would have been pretty hardy to have made a swim like that.”

  “I thought about that,” said Senator. “Maybe he didn’t swim away. Maybe he went through the town. All I know is that no strangers were in town. This is a pretty small town and people know when we got a stranger around. Even like now, at regatta time, local people know who the strangers are, where they are staying, that kind of thing.”

  “Would you have known, have been told by people in Mulberry,” asked Harry, “if this man had been a person of color?”

  Senator stared at him and sipped his coffee. “You mean, because that’s a black neighborhood and I’m a white man? You mean the folks there might not tell me?” He smiled. “You, being from the North, don’t understand how things work around River Sunday. Hell, yes, I would have known. Those people vote for me, Harry. Black folks talk to me, don’t you worry none about that.”

  He put down his coffee. “He had no reason to come back, Harry. He’d lost everything. Nothing was left for him here.”

  Harry was silent for a moment. “Something else I wanted to ask you about,” said Harry.

  “Sure.”

  “Did you know Lulu’s husband?” asked Harry.

  The Senator turned and stared into Harry’s eyes, his face grim, and said, “Don’t go there, Harry.”

  “Why?” said Harry.

  “I’m telling you for your own good. The man was a first class idiot. He poked his head into places which were none of his business.”

  “That’s why he died?” Harry persisted.

  “No. His death was an accident,” said Senator. “The man wanted to run for office and he pissed off a lot of people with the insults he hurled out.”

  “What kind of insults?”

  Senator looked at him and said, “He inferred the whole lot of us, the whole town, was crooked. He didn’t have any proof. Just made insulting remarks.”

  “He wanted your job?” asked Harry.

  “No, he didn’t get after me. Anyway, he died before he ran for an actual office. He wouldn’t have gotten elected to anything.”

  “So he was a blowhard,” Harry said, nodding.

  “Harry, he didn’t know anything. I don’t like to talk bad of the dead but Lulu is well rid of him. That bar has made a lot more money since he’s been gone.”

  “What about the hit and run that killed him?”

  “People like drama, to make up stories. Sheriff Good said at the time that her husband’s car might just have hit some trees.”

  “One more thing,” said Harry.

  “You’re on overtime, pal.”

  “Tell me about General Store.”

  Senator leaned back on his stool and stretched. “You think people here are pretty nasty, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I know that program at General Store was burned out, at least that’s what a lot of the community thinks, burned out by the Terment family,” Harry said.

  “If that happened, and I’m not saying that it did, you got to understand that people were trying to save their jobs,” said Senator.

  “You mean, people of color were getting jobs that once were held by the white community so the whites fought back?” said Harry.

  “I’m not saying that’s what happened, but if it did, you might see that old man Terment and his son, Jake, were considered heroes by some of the folks around here,” said Senator.

  “Like Walker is considered a hero by others?”

  Senator stopped talking to Harry as another citizen approached. He smiled and grabbed the hand of the visitor with such enthusiasm that Harry got the point right away. Senator was glad for an excuse to end the interview and to get away from Harry’s questions. As he walked away, Harry had a feeling that he had hit some sore spots, that Senator might know more than he had admitted.

  Chapter 11

  Monday August 3, 3pm

  Annie drove the newspaper delivery truck like she did everything, full of enthusiasm. Her head was bent forward as if she was racing with the car itself, running down the road in a competition that she was determined to win. All the time her eyes were filled with an intensity that drew Harry’s attention. He had known many women but few who loved life the way Annie did. Jess had been like this, but if the two had been standing side by side at the edge of an active volcano and had to get the story about a coming eruption, Annie would have left Jess behind and climbed down inside to check out the lava.

  The burning of the General Store project and the effect on Walker was still on Harry’s mind. He had to know more about that smaller fire. The only remaining Terment in the area was Jake Terment’s wife, Serena. He thought she would be worth some time spent asking questions.

  Annie twisted back and forth the steering wheel to keep the old van centered on the dusty high crest road. She said, “I don’t think Serena can tell you much about her former husband or about Walker John. She’s, well, barely able to take care of herself, her and the little boy. She’s not really right in the head since the loss of her husband.”

  “Anyone look after her?” asked Harry. As he did he enjoye
d the way Annie’s lips pursed as she spoke, as if she were considering each syllable before letting it go into the air around her.

  Annie replied, “A trustee from the court that settled the estate.”

  While he was still in New York, Harry had heard of Jake Terment’s bankruptcy case. It was all over the financial press until it was settled. Jake had been a national figure, written up in all the magazines as a man on the rise, one with big money. He had started with his father’s small Maryland real estate firm and built it into the biggest commercial land development company in the nation. Jake also hit the tabloids with his marriage to this woman, Serena, who at the time was a movie star, known for her voluptuous body, Playboy magazine layouts, several soft porn movies and some forgettable mysteries. At one time she had been in line for a part in a first line film by a noted director. Then he died in a construction accident while working on a project near River Sunday and his holdings were caught up in a decline in real estate values.

  “What is she living on?” asked Harry.

  “I don’t know. The house is in process of being taken over by creditors. Soon she’ll be out on the street, I guess,” said Annie.

  “She won’t have any income?” said Harry.

  “Before she was married to Jake,” Annie said, “Serena had her career but I understand she has no money left from that either. She had been hurt and couldn’t make movies for a while. Then, she tried to get back into the pictures, spent the money she had left on investments in scripts that never got made into movies. She doesn’t have any family, just her and the baby living out here.”

  “How did she get hurt so bad?” asked Harry.

  “Just before Jake was killed, some kind of feral cat came up and attacked her at a cocktail reception.”

  The Terment house, a larger colonial mansion than Peggy’s home, was at the end of a long dirt road bordered by ancient trees. Beyond it Harry could see the blue water of the Chesapeake Bay. The house appeared deserted and unkempt. Even the gravel driveway had high grass growing where cars were supposed to park.

  Harry heard no answer when he knocked at the massive front door.

  “We can look around,” suggested Annie. Harry started toward the back of the right wing, a two story appendage, and as he went around the corner, he spotted a small garden. He signaled to Annie and they approached it. As they got closer he noticed over by the side of the garden, among tall untended lawn, a hunched over woman who was reading a book to a small boy about four years old.

  “Hello,” said Annie.

  A tanned face looked up. The woman’s long straggly hair was pulled up behind her head. She wore a short heavily stained once white sundress, open at the back and well up her long legs. Her feet were bare and dirty with mud. The child, his face unwashed, had on a red swimsuit, also stained. Their faces and skin were marred with red bumps of swollen insect bites.

  “If it’s a delivery, could you put it in the house?” she said, her voice a soft bass tone. Harry recognized Serena from her write-ups in the tabloids, although she was unkempt, her hair not washed, and her face was red from sunburn.

  Annie spoke again, “Missus Terment, I’m Annie from the Nanticoke Times newspaper. My editor here, Harry Jacobsen, wants to talk to you.”

  Serena smiled at the child, handed him the book and stood up, trying without success to pull the dress, which was too tight, down her legs.

  Her voice was still as sultry as Harry remembered. “My agent didn’t tell me you were coming. I would have prepared,” she said with a smile that showed her still perfect teeth.

  Annie shook her head slightly, asking, “Has your nurse been out today, Serena? Do you want me to call her?”

  Serena reached out her hand like a queen having an audience and said, “That’s all right. My agent often expects me to be ready for interviews at a moment’s notice. Just sit down and I’ll order some drinks for us.”

  “I see I’ve interrupted you,” said Annie. She was watching the child scratch a bloody insect bite on his leg. “How’s little Henry today?”

  “Henry’s fine,” she said, tousling his hair. “Jake will be home soon. Do you know my husband?” The intensity of her question took Harry by surprise. With her effort at standing, her tiny dress had pulled upward. It was high enough to show that she wore no underwear and that the top of one of her thighs had a long ugly scar.

  Serena noticed his glance at her blemish and sat down again, trying to cover the thigh area. “I’m afraid it’s too hot out here in the garden for me to stand very long. Annie, would you get Harry and I a cold drink? Maybe something for Henry too.”

  Harry sat in a white metal chair and looked into Serena’s eyes.

  “Are you a friendly critic or do you hate my movies?” she asked.

  “Friendly, I guess.”

  “Well, I hope so,” she said. “Jake likes my movies.”

  “Of course he does,” said Harry.

  “Which of my movies shall we start with?” she said, pursing her lips as if she were moving around non-existent lipstick. “Of course, you may not be interested in my love movies.” She winked at him.

  Harry leaned forward in his chair. “I’d like to discuss something else first. It’s about a man your husband knew.”

  “Who?”

  “His name was Walker John Douglas,” Harry said and watched her close her eyes to think.

  “I heard my husband talk about him,” she said. “He was a black man who set the town on fire. I think he fixed Jake’s boats.”

  Harry said, “Some people say that Walker burned the town because of what your husband and his father did to him.”

  “Jake never told me about what he did to Walker.”

  Harry pushed, “Does the name General Store mean anything to you?”

  She put her face in her hands and her voice raised, the words coming out in a singsong rhythm.” I’ve heard that name before but I can’t remember how. What do you want from me? Haven’t they all tortured my husband enough with lies about him and his father?” She was speaking very loudly now.

  Annie came out of the house with glasses of water, and as she did, the child intercepted her. Then the boy turned, came at Harry, and began to hit him on his knees.

  Serena watched her child’s tantrum but made no effort to stop him.

  Harry continued, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to know if Jake had ever told you anything about it.”

  She looked at Annie, her face covered with tears, and said, “Why? What good will it do?”

  Harry persisted, “I want to find out if Walker had a reason to be angry. The warehouse that burned belonged to Jake Terment’s family.”

  “Jake wasn’t responsible for anything,” Serena said.

  “Did he tell you that?” asked Annie, handing her one of the glasses of water.

  The woman looked at her, tears running down the dirt on her face, “Jake did what the others told him.” Her expression immediately turned to one of nonchalance and she idly picked at a stone caught in between the first two toes of her right foot. Red polish was on her toe nails but it had been applied carelessly and some of the paint was splashed on the flesh at the sides of the toes and looked like blood. When she retrieved the stone, she flicked it in front of her son who scrambled for it like a puppy.

  “Who were the others?” asked Harry.

  He eyes glazed as she continued to pick at her foot. “Jake will be home soon,” she said in a softer singsong melody as if she were singing to her child. “He’ll tell you about his father and the work they did together when he gets here. He was a good son, and a big help to his father. His father loved him.” Her son brought her the stone and she threw it away again, this time a little further. The boy tumbled to retrieve it.

  “Did you ever hear him talk about the fire at his cannery where General Store was located?” asked Annie, trying again.

  She smiled and said, “Jake is a beautiful man. He could be my co-star.”

  “D
id Jake specifically tell you that he himself set that fire at General Store?” Annie repeated.

  “I bet he will have plenty to tell you when he comes home.” She looked at the back door of the house. “I sent Annie in for drinks. I wonder what is keeping that girl.”

  She looked at her son. “This boy is the new generation of Terments in River Sunday. He won’t wake up with nightmares like Jake does.”

  She stopped talking and looked out at the water. Then, as if Harry and Annie had already left and were not sitting in the garden watching her, she stood up and walked around the garden, looking at an occasional flower. As she walked she showed the limp that had stopped her movie career, the limp caused by the same animal attack that had left the scars.

  Once, she turned to Annie and said, “You have to watch out. Some of the people in River Sunday are quite insane, you know.”

  Then, after she picked a red rose and put it in the top of her dress where the stem could be held between her large breasts, she turned again and smiled at them. “Did my agent send you to talk about the script?”

  Annie shook her head and Serene turned away for the last time.

  Annie whispered to Harry, “I could find no furniture in the house. The two of them sleep on the floor in the kitchen where I found two pillows and a dirty sheet. The water glasses I brought out were the only ones I could find.”

  As they watched, the boy caught several butterflies and crushed them. He was placing each crushed bug in a little pile near where his mother was examining flowers. She in turn looked at the growing pile of dead bugs, smoothed the high grass, and placed the crushed insects into lines to form a small rectangle of color.

  “Jake never liked the butterflies,” she said.

  They quietly stood up and left them. They could see in the distance her left hand rubbing the scar on her leg, rubbing it slowly, then testing the leg by stretching the leg forward, then rubbing it again.

  In the van, Annie said, “I’ll call the town social worker.”