Sea Change

by Dave Balcom

  I hit the door running, and yelled for Jan. “I’m right here,” she said conversationally. “There are some folks on the porch waiting to speak with you.”

  I walked out onto the porch and found Sylva, McPhee, Jensen and two state police officers waiting on me.

  “What’s up? I just talked to you an hour ago, you weren’t in Portland?”

  “Actually, I was in Pendleton with Jensen at the state police substation. Let me introduce Lieutenant Dan Richards and Corporal Pete Boyd. Gentlemen, this is Jim Stanton.”

  Both officers stood to shake hands. They were both in the six-three range in height. Lt. Richards was beefy to boot; Boyd was trim and younger. Both looked at me with intelligent and curious eyes.

  “I’m glad to meet you both, but I’m not sure I understand who called this meeting and why.”

  Jensen took over, “I called the meeting. I’m asking the OSP to put a protection detail on you for the next few weeks. They wanted to meet you, go over our needs and their potential. Sound this thing out to see if we can keep you alive ’til your first anniversary.”

  “What has happened?”

  “Rhonda’s gone. We saw her walk out of her house to the alley behind it at about six-fifteen. A late model mini-van pulled up, and she got inside still wearing her bathrobe. They pulled away, and as our guy made a move to follow, an SUV out of nowhere t-boned the vehicle, sending one detective to the hospital, and disabling the other detective from anything other than calling for help, which he did.”

  “What made her run?”

  Jensen turned to Sylva. “We wondered the same thing,” the detective said. “According to Jensen, the only people who knew about Rhonda were he and Veragas up in Bellingham until he got to Portland late last night. He briefed the squad that was monitoring Crocker, and detailed a squad to keep an eye on Rhonda’s place. Then they came and shared with our squad at our morning meeting, and fifteen minutes later she’s mobile.”

  “That’s some coincidence, isn’t it?” I whispered.

  “Nope, it’s a clue. So, being the good detectives that we are, we pulled the phone data in our squad room, and then the lugs on the cell phones of our team. Seems Capt. William Sensa, our unit commander, placed a call to the known cell phone of one Willard Crocker at six-o-five a.m. The call lasted twenty seconds.”

  “Amazing,” I said. “I always presumed that there had to be police officials on The Outfit’s payroll for anything that large to go unsubstantiated for so long, but the commander of the Gang Squad? Whew!” We sat silent for a few minutes, wondering just how many cops were involved and how high up they went. “So you think we’re going to be visited?”

  Lt. Richards nodded. “They made a good case on the phone, and Boyd came up to take a look, and, frankly had a hard time finding you. You’re pretty isolated out here. I think you’d be safer in town, maybe even Portland.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to be rude or obstinate or uncooperative, but we can’t go into some kind of protection scheme with no idea of when it would end. That would be wrong if not stupid.”

  “We expect that we’ll find her and Crocker in a few days,” Jensen said.

  “With the resources they have at their disposal?” I scoffed. “With that kind of money, I think I could disappear where I wouldn’t mind being and where you’d never find me.”

  “So, you won’t come into town for a while?” Richards asked.

  “I’m sorry. We’re not defenseless here. We’ll take precautions, and we appreciate any help you can give us, but no, we’re not going to go into hiding.”

  “That’s what we figured, so we thought you might not mind inviting Corporal Boyd to be your house guest for a while?”

  “Are you single, Corporal?” Jan asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then of course, we’d love to get to know you better.”

  The other three officers raised eyebrows and started laughing. I noted Boyd was a blusher before I saw Jan glom onto how the cops were interpreting what she’d said. Flustered, she said, “Really, gentlemen. I meant that it wouldn’t be a hardship on his wife; er, partner... You all listen dirty! I’m ashamed for all of you,” she said, but that just made the four cops laugh even harder.

  43

  We were getting used to Boyd’s presence in our lives. He’d been living with us for seven days and nights. He was quiet, neat and very good around a cribbage board. “My father taught me when I was little. He thought it would help me with my addition skills.”

  “Did it?” Jan asked.

  “Pretty much, I grew up being able to add two and two and arrive at three-to-five years in prison.”

  We were planning a trip to the Tri-Cities, and we were going to drop Boyd off at the OSP barracks where he was behind on paperwork, and then pick him up on the way home.

  I called the Nelsons to find out if they had a shopping list or any other tasks we could do for them, but they didn’t answer the phone

  “Let’s stop down there. They’re probably out in the yard,” I said.

  We drove down the street and I knew something was amiss when I saw Shirlee’s horse, saddled but standing alone in the side yard.

  I bailed out of the truck and made a quick turn around the corner of their garage toward the backyard when I heard a yell, “Down!”

  I didn’t hesitate; just did a head-first slide into the shrubbery along the side of their house. I heard another shout and realized it had come from the driveway. “Down!”

  I didn’t recognize the voice, and as I started walking back toward the front of the house, I heard a gunshot. I pulled my Taurus from its hip holster and cautiously peeked around the corner.

  Boyd was just getting up and Jan was standing beside him with her Colt in both hands. I looked further around the corner and saw a man on his hands and knees, making an alarming pool of blood on the driveway.

  “Freeze, Stanton.”

  I felt the pressure of a muzzle on my back.

  “Drop your weapon.” I let the gun fall. “Step away to your left.”

  I stepped away and forward with my hands up, and saw Boyd recognize that I was under the gun.

  “Tell them to drop their weapons or I’m going to shoot you right here.”

  “Mister, I’m pretty sure that if you shoot me right here, you’re going to really piss Rhonda off.”

  “So you figure you know the score here?”

  I stepped another half step away from the building and found only Jan standing by the truck. The other guy was now prone on his belly. “Drop your weapon, Jan,” I said.

  She gently placed the automatic on the driveway.

  “Did you see her do that?” I asked the gunman.

  “Where’s the cop?”

  “I don’t see him; I think he must have gone the other way around the house.”

  “Too bad for him, then. Sis, you need to come over here.”

  Jan walked toward us and I could see the fear in her eyes. “Take it easy, kiddo,” I tried to reassure her.

  “To the back door; now!”

  I turned to walk that way with Jan between me and the garage wall. We’d taken about three steps when I heard a double “thud, thud,” and felt my assailant fall into me, knocking me down.

  I spun over, ready to strike, and found Boyd pulling a young man with blood streaming from his face off my legs. “Good work, corporal.”

  Boyd handed Jan her weapon and my Taurus to me. “That revolver makes a deadly hammer.”

  “I could tell you stories,” I grunted.

  “Jan, go back to the truck. Call nine-one-one, and stay there until we come to get you,” Boyd said. He gently pushed her in that direction. She moved carefully around the corner, her weapon at the ready.

  “What do you figure?” He asked me.

  “Gotta find out about Jack and Shirlee. Cover me, okay?”

  “Go ahead, you know the way.”

  I peeked around the back corner of the garage t
o the patio off their kitchen door. Jack and Shirlee were seated at the picnic table. A man and a woman were sitting on either side of them, looking right at me.

  “Come on over, Jim,” Rhonda Robertson said. “We’ve been waiting for you. I didn’t want you to miss the end of your world as you know it.”

  “Rhonda; Willard, isn’t it?”

  “Leave your gun there in the flowers, Mr. Stanton,” Crocker said. “We’re about to make you very sorry that you ever interfered with our enterprises. I’m sure you’re familiar with our practice in such cases. When you interfere with us, we visit our wrath not only on you, but on everyone you care about.”

  “I remember Charlotte Davis telling me the same thing. How is ol’ Charlotte these days, Rhonda? You spent any time in Ionia, visiting Charlotte?”

  “You’re not going to incite me into shooting you first, Jim. Taking care of Charlotte has been Willard’s duty all these years. She’s as crazy as you thought she was, but she was loyal to my father.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I replied, “You want to blame Big Mike’s death on me, but you know damn well I didn’t kill him. His greed did.”

  “Oh, you killed him just as if you’d pulled the trigger. If you hadn’t shown up, asking your questions, getting the police involved... it was like San Francisco all over again, when Daddy took over for Mr. Crocker when he died.

  “Daddy had to deal with a bunch of disloyal thieves in a way that made a lasting impression on the survivors. It worked too, but then there were so many of you asking questions and interfering, he had no choice but to move the operational leadership to Portland. He ran it all from Mineral Valley.”

  “Yes, he was a mastermind. I just didn’t realize the scope of it all.”

  “I figured we’d put you down and let people think it was related to that meaningless drug trial, but then this old fart shows up...” She was raising her weapon to shoot Jack when Boyd’s weapon cracked behind me, and I saw her head snap back. I dived into the flowers to get my gun and I heard another shot. I looked up and saw Crocker trying to get up out of his chair, but then Boyd ran past me toward the attorney. He got there and grabbed Crocker’s wrist. The man looked at the officer, down at his dead companion, and then sat back down in his chair.

  “Jim, are you all right?” Jan called from the other side of the patio.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I found the Taurus, holstered it, and ran to Shirlee’s side. She and Jack were handcuffed to the table. I hugged her, and asked, “Who had the key?” She looked at Crocker.

  As I watched, Boyd roughly wrestled Crocker out of his slouched position in the chair, took a ring of keys from the man’s pocket, and tossed it to me. I quickly scanned the keys and found the right one. I unlocked Shirlee and then Jack. She was hugging him, and crying. I looked closely at him. His eyes had a glassy, far away look. “Jack, buddy, are you with us?”

  “They beat the hell outta him,” Shirlee seethed. “Took turns.”

  “I’m probably in shock. Get me a blanket, will you?”

  “Jan,” I called out to her, “Did you call nine-one-one?”

  “Yes, I did,” she called over her shoulder as she bolted into the house in search of a blanket.

  I lifted Jack out of his chair and walked him to a chaise lounge in the sun, and set him down there. Jan was back with a throw from their living room, and wrapped it around the shaking man.

  Boyd was there with a glass of water, and forcing Jack to sit up and drink. “Do you have a heart condition, sir?”

  Jack looked at him, and I saw an inkling return of his normal wit, “Its condition, thanks to you, is it’s beating.”

  I knew he was out of the woods then. I grabbed Shirlee by the shoulders and sat her down next to Jack. He put a hand on her back, and she turned and cuddled into his chest.

  I saw Boyd was tending to Crocker, and only then did I see the spreading stain on the lawyer’s chest. As I watched, I saw the young man’s shoulders sag for a second, and then he carefully lowered the dead man to the stone patio.

  I approached him intending to comfort him, but he was all business. “I’ll be right back. Don’t anyone touch anything. Best thing would be for you all to stand over there by the hedges,” he said, pointing to the far corner of the yard.

  “I’ll do one better,” I said. “Let me take everyone down to my house. We’ll clear this scene, but we’ll be careful not to discuss what went on here until the investigation team arrives. Okay?”

  He nodded. “But you have to walk. I don’t want the truck moved.”

  44

  That day took on a surreal quality. We walked down to our house. I put Jan and the Nelsons on the porch, sitting in the sun, and brought glasses and a pitcher of ice water for them.

  “I’m going back to help Boyd.”

  The EMTs arrived about thirty seconds after the first police cars. We brought the first medic to the disabled bad guy who was handcuffed to a small maple. I directed the driver and the other medic to my house to check on Jack.

  They came back a few minutes later, assuring me that the old soil scientist was doing fine.

  Lt. Richards arrived about the time the Umatilla medical examiner did, and he took quiet charge of the scene.

  “Let’s go in here,” Richards motioned me toward the Nelsons’ kitchen door. Another trooper and a Sheriff’s deputy joined us.

  I told them everything about that day in just a few minutes. They asked questions and I answered as best I could.

  “So did you shoot anyone here?” Richards asked.

  “I never fired a shot. Corporal Boyd used my Taurus to disable that young man hooked up to the tree; used it as a hammer.”

  Richards nodded. “Who shot the guy in the driveway?”

  “I don’t know, but I believe it was Jan.”

  “You believe?”

  “When I went back to look, she was still holding her weapon and Boyd was trying to get up off the pavement, I don’t think he shot that guy and then laid down.”

  I watched as he mentally chewed on that, and then he said, “We’re going to have to question her, you understand.”

  “Of course. I just took them down to my house to preserve this crime scene as best we could.”

  They left me sitting in the kitchen for more than an hour, then Jan came to me and said we could go back home. As we left, I noted that the bodies were gone, but there was blood all over the patio.

  “We’re going to play hell cleaning that up,” I said.

  “We’ll handle it.”

  And so we did. We kept the Nelsons at our house that night. We sat up quite late, watching a star show of the first order, and exchanging desultory comments from time to time.

  “Jim, darling, about that chain?”

  “What chain?”

  “The anchor chain, silly.”

  I let that settle for a few minutes, and when neither Nelson asked, I felt I had to if we were going to have peace. “What about the anchor chain?”

  “I told you, at the store in Victoria, they taught me how to measure how much chain you use.”

  “And?”

  “It’s the length of your boat times one and a half.”

  Again, I let that lay for a few minutes. When I thought she might be asleep, I softly said, “That’s great.”

  “I thought so ... This afternoon, all I could think about was all the conversations we’ve had that wouldn’t be finished if one of those people had killed us.”

  I went to her and pulled her to standing, put my arms around her and hugged her hard. “I understand. We’re safe now.”

  Around eleven my phone chirped, and it was Richards telling me that his people were through with the crime scene and that we could clean at our own pace.

  “Thanks. We’ll get on it in the morning.”

  We were at the scene by six-thirty, and I was surprised to find Boyd there in civilian clothes.

  “Pete, what brings you up here this early?”

  He smiled at me an
d shrugged. “I have come to feel like family with you folks up here, so I’m doing what family does. I’m here to pitch in.”

  We turned to with soapy hot water, brushes and Jack’s power washer from the garage.

  We cleaned and scrubbed and cleaned some more, and by just before eleven, Jan was sitting at the table, sipping iced tea while Boyd was trundling garbage containers full of rags, paper towels and other dirty stuff to the road.

  I sat down next to Jan. “Love you,” she said with a soft smile. “How you doing?”

  I shrugged a bit, and then nodded, too. “I’m doing all right, maybe better than I’ve been for a while.”

  “Really?”

  “I think my anger went away.”

  “Revenge the antidote?”

  “I don’t think so... I don’t really know, but that burning thing in my chest is gone. I think I replaced it with caring about you, the Nelsons, Pete here... I think I might just be letting the hate go.”

  She nodded, “That’s the beauty of a sea change...” Then she seemed to run out of gas.

  I looked at her closely, wondering if this was another conversation she feared not finishing, but then she put her hand along my face, tenderly, and kept going, “...sometimes you go through rough water, like a cross chop, then you find calm. Tide comes in; tide goes out, and in between you have calm. It’s the beauty of a sea change.

  “I think you went through a tough time, battled the tide and the cross chop, but in the end, you found your calm self again – you just went through a sea change.”

  Pete came around the house just then and Jan made a show of appraising the beautiful yard and garden in full bloom. “Jim, darlin’,” she said in a sweet artificial drawl, “We gotta do something like this to our place.”

  I looked at her dumbfounded. “Sure, dear.”

  “No, I mean it,” she insisted as Boyd took the seat next to her. “Don’t you think it would be nice to have this kind of yard behind our house?”

  Boyd nodded his agreement. Then, looking at me, he said, “I think you folks should take up gardening as a hobby. I really do.”