by R Weir
“I’m too tired,” she said after the kiss ended.
“We’ll lie down on the bed together and sleep.”
I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. While placing her on the bed, the towel fell open and I enjoyed the beauty of her body freshly cleaned and smelling of flowery soap. I slowly undressed, lying on the bed beside her, pulling the covers over us. She curled up next to me and soon was asleep, the day of work being laid to rest. Another night of passion on hold; a closeness of body, but a distance in soul, remained.
Chapter 4
Flying had never thrilled me much. It was the fastest way to get somewhere, but I still didn’t care for it. Other than the takeoff and landing, it was fine, so long as we didn’t crash in the process. The up and down often affected my stomach, so I’d found foregoing a meal beforehand made the nausea less likely to occur. The little cup of ice water and small bag of pretzels they provided in mid-flight was all I could handle. Once landed, I was off the 737 United flight and through the concourse to my rental car. Soon, I was on the road in a black Dodge Challenger, heading for the hotel.
Even though it was still late spring, I felt the humidity pound me once outside, the threat of rain in the air. I hit a local Jimmy John’s sandwich shop for a turkey, cheese and bacon sub and continued my drive to West Des Moines as the showers began. I found a decent hotel via an online reservation. One of the strong selling points was it served real breakfast each morning and hot snacks in the evening. With plans to stay a week, this trip was going to put a good dent in my cash flow, so it was helpful not having to pay for some meals. Thankfully, I’d been paid well for the B&E case, so at least I wasn’t going into debt immediately.
Checked in and unpacked, I rested on the bed and sent a text to Helen I had arrived. I had been given Flynn’s daily work schedule and where his office was these days, so I would follow him tomorrow and see where it led. Calling Melissa, I got her voicemail. I left her a lovely message of endearment hoping she would contact me back. All I got was a text an hour later saying she was up to her neck in studies and would try to call when there was some free time, which never happened. Her response was brief, sterile and a bit stand-offish. Our night cuddled together sleeping had not improved her attitude towards me any. I had become accustomed to it and did my best to shrug it off.
The bed was decent, as was the television. I hated the silence in the room so I found a baseball game on ESPN pitting the Dodgers against Giants. I nodded off midway through the contest, which was easy to do watching the American pastime. Waking up a couple hours later, I silenced the TV and slept the rest of the night away, the air conditioning keeping the room cool and moderately free of humidity. Rain softly sauntered down the outside window.
Up at 7 a.m. the next morning, I showered and decided not to shave, a day-old beard serving as a moderate disguise. I ate a good breakfast of eggs, sausage and juice and was off. I had lived in Des Moines much of my early life before heading off to college in Colorado, and still remembered my way around. It hadn’t changed much, though traffic seemed worse, the roads no wider than twenty years earlier, with more cars filling them. I found the Mann household and was parked down the street waiting, the sun replacing the clouds, the pavement still damp. Flynn liked to ride his Harley Davidson when the weather allowed it, and he pulled out in his leather chaps and jacket, three-quarter helmet covering his head. He zoomed down the road with the classic Harley roar filling the air, undeterred by the wet streets. Following at a safe distance, so he wouldn’t suspect a tail, I patiently flowed with the crowd of vehicles. His business was in Urbandale, which was north of their house and even with the heavy traffic we were there in about fifteen minutes. The size of the Des Moines metro area was fractionally smaller than Denver, so it didn’t take long to get anywhere, even in the worst of congestion.
The office was in a single story building on Douglas Avenue. There were six other offices, with a small parking lot, making it difficult not to be seen. There was another space across the street, which provided an excellent view of his front door. I pulled in and got myself comfortable in the reclining seat and turned on some tunes, keeping the volume down. Douglas Avenue was a heavily travelled road, though the area wasn’t overwhelmingly noisy. On the other corner was a Walgreens, so I had access to a bathroom and food when I needed to get out and stretch my legs. I sat back and passed the time thinking on the past, the music playing softly in the background.
My earliest remembrances were of starting school. Mom dropping me off that first day, nervous how I would be away from home, but I had no fear. I was psyched for the new adventure on which I was about to embark. At this age, I was a sponge trying to absorb all I could, wanting to learn at every turn. I grabbed books to read, what little I could read already, and listened intently to the teachers speak on the daily subjects. Some hated school, but I was loving it. This was true all through elementary and into junior high school.
Growing up, and being a few years younger than my brother, I, at times, worshiped him. He was older and cooler than I was, seeming to always be the center of attention, whether it was with other boys in the neighborhood or the few girls who seemed to be drawn to him. I’d follow him around, and for some time he didn’t mind. As he hit his teen years, he wanted less to do with his little brother. He’d be off smoking his cigarettes he’d stolen from mom and dad, standing around talking as he puffed away, the coolest kid in the crowd. I’d still shadow him at times, and he’d get mad at me.
“Hit the road, butthead,” he would yell out when he saw me. “I don’t need my kid brother following me around and cramping my style.”
His threats didn’t worry me much, and I would still sneak around to see what he was doing. It may have been an early skill set I’d built for my future work. Many times he would not know I was there, as I was gathering intel for use against him. Knowledge was power, and I needed whatever I could use as leverage.
There had been few kids my age in the neighborhood, most being Flynn’s age, so I was eager to discover new friends when he didn’t want me hanging around anymore. I made a few, some whose names I’ve long forgotten, and others, like Joey Sheehan who had been as close a friend as I ever had. Someone whom I’d not seen or heard from since my middle years in high school when his family moved away. I had a few male friends, but always liked girls better, some as friends, others as more. I’d steal a kiss or two with a couple girls here and there, enjoying that sensational charge when our lips met. Like Flynn, I had an eye for the ladies. I watched and learned much from him and would use it as my confidence built. He would break a few hearts along the way, and so would I.
The morning turned to noon and the only real activity was Flynn coming out to smoke a cigarette. He had been a closet smoker for years, always claiming to have quit the nasty habit, while in reality he never could give them up permanently. Growing up in a smoking home hadn’t helped and I was thankful I had not been lured into the horrible habit, as I hated the smell of them. I saw a couple cars pull into the parking lot, neither of the drivers going into Flynn’s office. Though I had a good view, it was hard to see well from this distance. As the day wound down, I decided binoculars would be on my shopping list.
Unlike Colorado, it took most of the morning and past noon before the streets had dried completely. With a St Louis Cardinals ball cap and sunglasses to provide a vague disguise, I strolled over to Walgreens twice for bathroom breaks, drinks and snacks. I would need to stock better food for the next day, as most of what they provided would slowly kill me with preservatives. As the afternoon wound down, Flynn came out, hopped on his bike and drove away. The direction he took was not for going home, so I followed as close as I could, thankful he was a careful driver and not hot-dogging, weaving through traffic as some motorcyclists did. We were heading west until he stopped at a Hy-Vee grocery store. I’d never known him to be the type of man to pick up milk and bread on the way home, so I suspected this could be a clue. I was certain when I s
aw him pull next to a brown Saab, the face of a pretty woman smiling at him through the rolled down window. Once he was seated on the driver’s side, I saw the exchange of pleasantries and from there they headed north and on the corner of 86th and I-35/80 they stopped at a multi-story hotel. Flynn got out first and strolled in. I was able to pull up close enough to see her and, after checking her phone ten minutes later, she got out and followed his path. Though I couldn’t say for certain, it appeared my brother had a girlfriend.
Chapter 5
The next day I was better prepared, with cooler pack with better food and snacks, water and a decent pair of binoculars. My phone would have to suffice for any picture taking, as I wasn’t springing for a nice camera. The bank account was being taxed enough, and payment on this case wasn’t likely forthcoming.
This day followed the previous, along the same path, only when leaving he headed east instead, on Douglas. This time he met up with her in the Target parking lot on the corner of Merle Hay Road. From there in her car, they headed north and went into a different hotel a few miles down the road. If anything, I had to give my brother credit for being smart enough not to fall into the same pattern. I had a few shots of them with my phone camera and one of her license plate. Since I didn’t have any current police connections in Des Moines, I had called in the day before and left a message for April with the Denver Police Department. She called me back while I was sitting in the parking lot of the hotel playing the waiting game.
“Where are you at?” she asked.
“Des Moines, Iowa,” I answered. “The heart of the bible belt.”
“I’m surprised they let you in,” April said.
“I was born here; they have to let me in since I sprouted from the Midwest loins no matter how far removed I am from the lifestyle.”
“I was wondering, as the plate you gave me was from Iowa. Registered to a Casey Gaines. Lives in Johnston, wherever that is.” She gave me the address, which I stored upstairs to enter later on my phone. “She’s in her late-thirties and appears to be divorced from what I can tell. Not sure if Gaines is her maiden name or not. No arrest or driving record. Appears to be clean from what I can see. What are you chasing her for?”
“It would appear she is my brother’s girlfriend.”
“Well if he is anything like you then yes, that would be a crime, though likely not an arrestable one.”
“My brother has a wife and daughter. He appears to be cheating on them.”
“And the wife hired you?”
“All she could afford, for he is spending all his money on Casey, or so it seems.”
“You must not care for your brother much to be doing this?”
“Don’t dislike him. I just like her more. She shouldn’t have married him in the first place, but she got pregnant and you know how that goes. Especially in the bible belt.”
“Probably thought she could change him. All women believe it. He must have money or be a good lover for her to hang on. How long have they been married?”
“Fifteen years. Fortunately, they didn’t have any other kids. He got a vasectomy shortly after Jolene was born. No worries about him getting anyone else knocked up.”
“Well, that is a positive. I got to run. Enjoy the humidity and bring me back some sweet corn.”
The call ended before I could tell her it was still too early in the year for ears of corn, though humidity was never out of season. I quickly tapped away the info in OneNote so I wouldn’t forget it, digital notes having replaced paper. There was little doubt in my mind what my brother was doing. Now, the hardest part was telling Helen. Bad news was never easy and, when it came to family, even more so. I had received several text messages and a couple of voicemails asking if there was any news. So far, I had nothing concrete to tell her. My responses were “working on it”.
I decided to wait them out tonight. There was a Perkins nearby, so I grabbed a to-go order and forced down the burger and fries in the car. I listened to sports talk on the radio, but got tired of the arguing and switched back to my rock music collection to keep me alert. At around 9 p.m. they came out, went to Target, and from there I tailed her as she headed north again. Johnston was a suburb of Des Moines, and we drove to an apartment complex where she stepped out and headed up the stairs to a top floor unit, confirming the address I’d been given. I gave her several minutes to get settled, walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. The door opened on the security chain a mere crack, where I could only see her hazel eyes and stylish hair. From what little I could see of her face close-up, it was apparent why my brother was attracted to her.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Pardon me ma’am, but I’m wondering if the man of the house is home?” I used my beaming smile and flexed my muscles through my t-shirt, which normally made woman fling open the door and undress before me.
“No man here. Peddle your wares elsewhere.” The door slammed and I had my answer. No super power was ever universal.
Back in my car, I figured Flynn would be back home by now, so I sent a text to Helen saying I’d call in the morning and we could get together for lunch to discuss details in person, as news like this shouldn’t be announced digitally. Once back at my hotel, sleep didn’t come easily knowing tomorrow would not be a pleasant day.
Chapter 6
Helen and I decided to eat at The Tavern in the Historic Valley Junction District. This was my old stomping ground as a child growing up, my parents’ home and antique business only a few blocks away. They had sold it and retired when their health starting failing nine years ago. The business was still there today, only named differently than Mann’s Classic Antiques.
The Tavern had been in business since the forties and still served the best thin-crust pizza around. The place had changed some, being much larger than I remembered, expanding into the building next door, and doubling their size. I found a booth while waiting for Helen to show up and ordered a soda with garlic cheese bread. It was close to noon when she arrived. She stepped through the door, removing her sunglasses when she saw me. I’d not seen her in years, but she still looked good. Slightly heavier on her 5’8” frame, but firm, with a good figure shown off well in beige jeans and a flowery print blouse, which clung to an average bust. Her long, dark, curly hair accented a deeply tanned face which, this early in the season, spoke of tanning salon trips. Heels added to her height and, as she walked over, I stood and gave her a sisterly hug.
“You’re looking good, Jarvis,” she said while sitting down, her huge cloth satchel covering half the table top. “Other than the hairy face.”
“You look good too, Helen,” I replied with a grin. “You haven’t aged one bit.”
“Nice to hear, though I know it’s not true. Damn, I need a drink.”
The waitress stopped to drop off my soda, and Helen ordered a Long Island iced tea. I couldn’t help giving her a stare at the strength of the mixture so early in the day.
“I know, I’ll make sure to stick with one only and drink it slow. I needed something before you give me the bad news.”
“Why do you think it’s bad news?” I asked.
“It’s always bad news when it comes to Flynn. But let’s talk about other things first before getting to that. A little food and drink to settle my nerves. How are you doing?”
“Good. Been busy with work. Mostly keeping out of trouble.”
“How long has it been since we’ve seen you?”
“I imagine five or six years. Since Mom’s funeral.”
“Yes, that was a sad day. Hard to lose them both a few months apart.”
“All those years of smoking will do it. A habit I’m glad I never acquired.”
“I wish Flynn would completely quit. He thinks I don’t know, but you can smell it. No amount of gum or mints can hide it. Fortunately, he knows better than to smoke at home.”
I smiled knowing what she would do to him. Smoking was small potatoes compared to the news I was about to give her.
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nbsp; “Well, it’s been too long since we’ve seen you,” Helen said. “We heard about you and your encounter with some bad people, on the news. You were quite the hero around here for a while with folks that remember you. ‘Former local boy in gun battle’, I believe the headline said.”
I wasn’t real proud of all the carnage which happened last year, much of which I got credit for, but didn’t do. The term ‘hero’ ran counter to how I felt. Fame did help my business, which led to a tinge of guilt about capitalizing on my moment in the spotlight. Though, it was nice not to be begging for clients.
“Part of the job.”
The waitress returned with Helen’s drink and the garlic cheese bread. We ordered a fourteen inch cheese and sausage pizza, as I was anxious for the leftovers. I enjoyed the cheese bread dipped in marinara sauce. I had to say there were few pleasures I savored more.
“Modest as always,” Helen said after a long draw on her drink. “You know one person who was proud and asking about you?”
“Who?”
“Roni. She called me up and wondered if I talked with you any. She always cared about you.”
“I thought she was married.”
“Was, but no more. Been divorced about three years now. Changed her name back to Berry, as she couldn’t stand the jerk and wanted to be free of everything about him. You should look her up while you’re in town. I have her number.”
Helen wrote down the number on a napkin and slid it across the table. Roni had been a girlfriend of mine in high school. We had dated for about a year, but I broke it off when she insisted on a more exclusive relationship. I had seen several different girls off and on during our time together. I hadn’t been ready to settle down then, though she did carry quite a place in my memory. She was a devout Christian girl, who wanted to wait until marriage before having sex, which I respected. So, we had never been intimate beyond kissing and some heavy petting. I hadn’t thought of her in years. I took the napkin and looked at the number.
