Michelle pointed to the line of tents. “What are those?”
“They call them sutlers,” replied Eddie. “During the actual Civil War merchants would follow the armies and sell them things. Sutlers nowadays sell period-style items and goods to reenactors and the public. As for the reenactors there are definitely different levels. They have the ones called thread-counters who make sure their uniforms are authentic down to fabric having the same thread count as during the real war, hence the nickname.” Eddie deadpanned, “They’re also referred to as the stitch Nazis.” Bailey and Michelle laughed. “Then you have the other side of the spectrum, the Farbys; those are the ones who dare to have polyester in their uniforms or use plastic dinnerware during a reenactment, when those things weren’t even invented at the time of the real war. I call them Julie instead of Johnny Rebs.”
“So which are you, Nazi or Julie?” asked Michelle.
He grinned. “I’m a tweener. Most of my stuff is authentic, but I occasionally bend to the comforts of life at times as well.” He lowered his voice, “Don’t tell anyone, but my uniform has some rayon in it and, God forbid, Lycra. And if you press me on the point, I won’t deny that there might be some plastic thingies on my person.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“I’m actually going to buy some stuff from the sutlers today. Everybody’s gearing up for the reenactment of the Battle of Gettysburg in Pennsylvania in July. Then we got the Spotsylvania, Virginia, campaign coming up; the Road to Atlanta and the Battle of Franklin are in the fall. But this battle today is a pretty big deal. The Union outnumbered the rebels by about a third on both the infantry and cavalry side and had over twice the number of artillery pieces, but the Yanks suffered double the number of killed and wounded.”
As Michelle helped him with his gun, canteen and bedroll, she looked around at all the activity. “This is like a big movie production.”
“Yeah, but without the big payday.”
“Little boys who never grow up,” replied Bailey, shaking his head and grinning. “The toys just get bigger and more elaborate.”
“Is Dorothea here?” Michelle asked.
Eddie shrugged. “My good wife would rather have all her hair pulled out one strand at a time than come and see me play soldier.” A bugle sounded. “Okay, the camps are open. They’ll start with a little lecture about the battle and such, some infantry field drilling, music and then a cavalry demonstration.”
“You said you’re riding. Where’s your mount?”
Eddie pointed to a thirteen-hands-high nimble-looking Tennessee walker tethered to a trailer parked next to Eddie’s truck. “There’s my ride, Jonas. Sally’s taken good care of him, but that horse is ready for some real action.”
They headed to the army camps. Michelle watched with great admiration as Eddie drilled on foot, then took Jonas through some very intricate paces during the cavalry demonstration. The spectators were required to leave the camps before the artillery barrage began. At the first salvo Michelle covered her ears.
Then the first day of the battle was announced.
Eddie pointed them to a spot where they could “watch me die gloriously.” He also pointed out the hospitality tents. “Hot dogs and cold Buds. That’s a perk no Civil War soldier ever saw,” he said.
“I hear they’re filming this,” said Bailey.
“That’s right. They shoot lots of them. For posterity,” he added sarcastically.
“I’m assuming all the guns and cannon are loaded with blanks,” said Michelle.
“Mine is. I sure as hell hope everyone else followed that same rule.” Eddie smiled. “Don’t worry, we’re all pros here. There won’t be any musket balls flying around.” He stood and balanced all his equipment. “Sometimes I don’t know how those guys walked, much less fought, with all this stuff. I’ll see you later. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” said Michelle as he hustled off.
Chapter 53
The message was sitting on Kyle’s Jeep when he came down from his apartment. He opened the envelope and read the contents, a broad smile covering his face. It was from his prescription pill client, the crazy exhibitionist with a love for silenced weapons. She wanted to meet, at a local motel, very late that night. She had even included the room number. She apologized for what she’d done and wanted to make amends. She promised him five thousand dollars and, more intriguingly, consummation of what he’d expected to receive the last time. She wanted him, the letter said. She wanted him badly. He would never forget the experience. And she’d included another inducement: ten one-hundred-dollar bills. It was probably the very same cash she’d made him leave behind.
He put the money in his pocket, climbed into his Jeep and set off. His blackmail scheme hadn’t paid off; he’d obviously been wrong about what he’d seen. But now this new opportunity had presented itself, and with the grand already in his pocket, how could he really lose? Okay, she probably wasn’t playing with a full deck, but he didn’t figure her for any more gun wielding. Why would she give him this much money if she didn’t mean what she said? He would be very careful, but Kyle took this as perhaps the luckiest day of his life. And he told himself he’d be rough with her, as a little payback for scaring him so badly. He bet she liked it rough. Well, he’d give the bitch more than she bargained for. Big Kyle was on the warpath.
Michelle and Bailey watched through binoculars as the battle, or rather the series of skirmishes, took place all over the area: charges and countercharges and hand-to-hand fighting that looked incredibly realistic. Every time the cannon boomed Michelle jumped and Bailey laughed.
“Rookie,” he said jokingly.
Columns of men in gray and butternut brown would pour out to be met by walls of their counterparts in blue. Even with all the smoke, shots, cannon fire, screams, confusion and rush of feet and smack of saber against saber everywhere, Michelle could easily see how the real thing would be far worse. At least no blood was pooling on the ground, no limbs were scattered around; there were no real sobs that heralded the dying gasps of the mortally wounded. The worst injury they’d observed was a sprained ankle.
Michelle became very alert when she saw Eddie and his ragtag company explode out of the woods shrieking the famous rebel yell. They were met by a volley of fire by their Union opponents, and half the men fell to the dirt, dead or dying. Eddie wasn’t hit in the initial fire, and he and about a dozen of his men raced on. Eddie jumped the wooden breastworks and engaged in furious hand-to-hand combat with three Union soldiers, dropping two of them as Michelle looked on enthralled. He actually lifted one of the men up and threw him into a bush. As his soldiers were dropping all around him, Eddie pulled his saber and did some intricate swordplay with a Union captain, finally running him through.
So realistic was it all that when Eddie turned to seek out another foe and took a rifle round right in his gut, Michelle felt all her breath rush out. As Eddie dropped to the ground, she felt an almost overpowering urge to pull her own weapon, rush forward and shoot the man who’d just killed Eddie.
She turned and found Bailey’s gaze on her. “I know. I felt the same way the first time I saw him get killed.”
For a few minutes none of the men moved at all, and Michelle felt herself growing nervous. Then Eddie sat up, leaned over and spoke to the fallen man next to him, stood and walked over to join a relieved Michelle and Bailey.
He took off his hat, wiped his sweaty brow.
“That was absolutely amazing, Eddie,” said Michelle.
“Aw, shucks, ma’am, you should’ve seen me at Gettysburg or Antietam. Now, there I was in fine form.”
You looked pretty fine today, thought Michelle, and then she caught herself, King’s remonstrations coming back to her: he was married. Even if his wife apparently didn’t care for him, he was still married.
“How do you know who dies or not?” she asked.
“It’s all pretty much planned out before. Most reenactments are held Friday to Sunday. On F
riday people start gathering and the generals go around to everybody, tell them what they need, who’s going to be where, who dies, who doesn’t. A lot depends on who shows up and with what—horses, cannon, stuff like that. Most everybody here is experienced, so there’s not much of a learning curve. And the fighting is choreographed, at least for the most part; but there’s always some room for improvisation. The guy I picked up and dumped in the bush? That was a little payback on my part. The last battle the little shit smacked me in the head with his sword handle. Said it was an accident. I had a knot on my head for a week. So I accidentally picked him up and threw him into that thornbush.”
She looked over where the “dead” men were still on the ground. “Are there rules about how long you have to stay there?”
“Yes, but it’s flexible. Sometimes the general tells you beforehand you have to stay down until the battle’s over. Or if we have ambulance carriers that show up; we may be taken off the field that way. They’re filming today, so it’s all a little trickier, but the cameras switched to another skirmish after I got killed, so I cheated a little and jumped ship.” He added with a shy grin, “The scenery’s a lot better over here.”
“Compared to dead bodies? I don’t think I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Michelle, returning his smile.
They later watched Eddie on horseback where he led his men on tactical probes of the Union line. The horsemen flashed by, racing up and down knolls and jumping obstacles in their way.
Michelle turned to Bailey. “Where’d he learn to ride like that?”
“You’d be surprised at what the man can do. Have you seen any of his paintings?”
“No, but I really want to.”
Eddie rode by later and tossed his plumed cavalry hat to Michelle.
“What’s that for?” she said, catching it.
“I wasn’t killed. You must be my good-luck charm,” he called out before dashing off again.
A ladies’ tea and fashion show followed. After that was instruction on dances of the Civil War era. Eddie partnered with Michelle and helped teach her the intricate steps of several. A formal ball followed that was supposed to be for reenactors only, but Eddie had a Civil War-era dress he said he’d bought from one of the sutlers that he gave to Michelle.
She looked at it in surprise. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Why, milady, if we’re crashing the ball, you have to have the proper accoutrements. Come on, you can change in the truck. I’ll stand guard so your reputation will remain intact.”
Eddie had gotten an outfit for Chip Bailey too, but the FBI agent announced he had to leave.
“I’ll drive her home, then,” said Eddie. “I can’t stay for the second day of the battle anyway. I’m leaving tonight.”
Michelle looked a little uncomfortable with this, but Eddie said, “I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman. And remember we have Jonas in the trailer as a chaperone.”
They spent the next two hours dancing and eating and drinking.
Eddie finally sat down, his big chest heaving while Michelle looked barely out of breath.
“Okay, girl, you’ve got some wind, I’ll say that.”
“Well, I didn’t fight in a war today.”
“I’m beat and my back is killing me. I’ve been riding horses and doing this fighting stuff way too long. You ready to call it a day?”
“I am.”
Before they left, he took a Polaroid of her in her ball gown. “I’ll probably never see you dressed like that again,” he explained, “so I might as well have proof of it.”
She changed back into her regular clothes before the drive home. On the way they talked, first about the battle and reenactments in general and then about Michelle’s background and family.
“Lots of brothers, huh?” said Eddie.
“Too many, sometimes. I was the youngest, and though he’d never admit it, my dad dotes on me. He and my brothers are all cops. When I decided to join the ranks, he was none too pleased. He still hasn’t quite gotten over it.”
“I had a brother,” he said quietly. “His name was Bobby. We were twins.”
“I know, I heard. I’m sorry.”
“He was a great kid. He really was. Sweet, do anything for you, he was just not all there. I loved him. I really did and I miss him like hell.”
“I’m sure it really devastated your whole family.”
“Yeah, I suppose it did,” he said.
“And I guess you and Savannah don’t have much in common.”
“She’s a good kid too, really bright, but she’s sort of lost. Hell, I can’t blame her, look at me.”
“I think you’ve done all right for yourself.”
He glanced over at her. “That’s quite a compliment coming from you, an Olympian-turned-Secret-Service-agent and now a hotshot detective. How do you like working with Sean?”
“He’s great. I couldn’t ask for a better partner and mentor.”
“He is one smart man. But let’s face it: he’s lucky to have you.” Michelle looked out the window, obviously uncomfortable.
“I’m not being fresh, Michelle. You two work well together. It’s nice to be part of something like that. I guess I’m just envious.”
She looked over at him. “If you’re unhappy, you can change that, Eddie.”
“I am unhappy in some ways,” he said. “But I don’t think I have the courage to make a change, not a real one. It’s not just Dorothea. She goes her way and I go mine. Lots of marriages are set up just like that, and I can deal with it. But I’ve got my mother too. Let’s say I head out of here, what happens to her?”
“She seems like a person well able to take care of herself.”
“You might be surprised, especially now with everyone pointing fingers at her.”
“Sean and I are going to meet with her and go through that. Obviously, whatever she said to Lulu worked. If Lulu believes she had nothing to do with Junior’s death, other people will start to believe it too.”
“It’s not just Junior’s death, it’s my father. It’s no secret that they had a rocky marriage at times, so some people suspect she killed him. I’m not sure that’s something she can survive.”
“Before we meet with Remmy, you might want to see if she’ll tell you what was in her closet that was stolen.”
He looked puzzled. “I thought it was just her ring and cash and stuff.”
“No, there was something else. Something she wanted back so badly that she offered Junior a lot of money for its return.”
Eddie gripped the wheel tighter. “What the hell could it be?”
“I’m hoping you can find out. If she’ll tell anyone, I’m assuming she’ll tell you.”
“I’ll try, Michelle, I’ll give it my best shot.”
He drove her home and walked her up to the door.
“When you come over to speak to Mom, drop by my place afterward, and I’ll show you and Sean some of my paintings.”
Michelle’s face lit up. “I’d like that, Eddie, I’d like that a lot. Well, thanks for a wonderful evening. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”
He took a deep bow, and when he stood again, he handed her his plumed hat. “For you, milady.” He added, “Hell, I haven’t had this much fun in the last twenty years.”
They stood there awkwardly, not looking at each other, for a long moment, and then Eddie put out his hand, which she immediately shook. “Well, good night,” he said.
“Good night, Eddie.”
As he drove off with the horse trailer behind his truck, Michelle stood there fingering his cavalry hat and staring after him.
Michelle had very infrequently allowed herself to think about a long-term relationship with a man. First had come the goal of being an Olympian, then a street cop, and then over the next decade she’d pounded her way through the intricacies and hardships of being a Secret Service agent. Those had been her expectations, her career goals, and she’d met each head-on and conquere
d them. Now at thirty-two, having settled down in a small town and started a new career, thoughts had begun to creep in about the possibilities of something else besides work, besides clawing her way to the pinnacle of a new career. She’d never really envisioned herself as a mother—though she had no reason to believe she couldn’t be a good one—but she could see herself as someone’s wife.
She stared at the swirl of dust lingering behind Eddie’s departed truck.
And once again she heard Sean’s warning ringing in her ears. Eddie was married, if unhappily. And so for her that was the end of it.
She went inside and spent the next hour kicking the crap out of her heavy bag.
Chapter 54
While Michelle was at the reenactment, King received a phone call from Sylvia Diaz at his houseboat.
“We missed you at the funeral and the reception,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t know the Battles, and I obviously wasn’t invited to the reception. And crashing an event like that didn’t seem to be a stellar idea.”
“You missed some interesting developments.” He explained about Remmy and Lulu Oxley but didn’t mention seeing Sally Wainwright at Junior’s grave. The fewer people who knew about that right now, the better, he thought.
“I need to talk to you. Are you free for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“You sound stressed. Anything wrong?”
“Sean, I think something is very wrong.”
That evening King drove to a restaurant on the outskirts of Charlottesville. Sylvia hadn’t wanted to meet in Wrightsburg. Her cryptic response to his question had left him full of curiosity. When they were seated at a private table in the back, he didn’t waste any time. “Okay, what’s going on?”
Sylvia launched into her discovery of Kyle’s theft of the prescription drugs and seeing the mysterious woman at the Aphrodisiac.
King sat back, puzzled. “You didn’t recognize her voice?”
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