Archangel of Sedona
Page 11
To bolster my morale, I decided to lay in basic rations. I’d need water, snacks, sodas, good beer, and a couple bottles of excellent red wine. I might not be staying at L’Auberge, but I didn’t have to be in purgatory. I was still in my favorite spot on the planet: Sedona, Arizona.
When I was a senior at Brophy, I worked for the A.J. Bayless grocery chain in Phoenix. I bagged groceries 25 hours a week at their store on Central Avenue and Indian School Road. I did this work for $1.15 per hour. After taxes, I made $22.00 a week. I was damn glad to have that money.
Gas for my dad’s 1955 Chevy was $0.19 a gallon. The drive-in on 7th Street cost $2.00 a car. A six-pack of beer was $1.50, if I could get someone over 21 to score one for me. I could have a passionate date with my girlfriend for $8.00. Being rich is having more money than you need. J. Paul Getty had nothing on me.
A.J Bayless went bankrupt in the ’80s. Bashas took over the Bayless stores, and their brand is known throughout Arizona. I found their market in West Sedona to be nice. The modest prices for wine surprised me. I expected that a grocery in Sedona would gouge the tourists. Not the case at Bashas.
I splurged. I would spend a week in Sedona at the Super 8, but I’d be sipping some excellent full-bodied Cabs and Syrahs.
After settling with the cashier, I walked out of the store into the overpowering scent of western barbeque. A vendor had set up a sophisticated open-air operation at the store’s exit. I had an overpowering desire for a hot dog.
I set my grocery cart to the side, stood in a line, and waited my turn. When I got to the front of the line, a distinguished looking black man waited on me. He had a baseball cap with the combat patch of the 101st Airborne cocked back on his head.
“All the way!” I said in the traditional opening gambit of Paratroopers.
“Airborne!” He responded, sizing me up. “You a Screamin’ Eagle?”
“Nope. Served with the Herd in Vietnam, the 82nd at Bragg, and 18th Airborne Corps.”
“Vietnam with the 173rd?” He asked.
“Yep.”
“Where’d you train?”
“Tigerland at Polk. Jump School at Benning,” I said.
“Me, too,” he said, smiling. “But along with the 101st in the A Shau, I served with the 82nd in Granada and Panama,” he revealed.
By this time, about eight customers had queued up behind me and had become impatient with our reunion. The vendor extended his hand to me and said, “I’m Eddie Grimes. Give me your order. It’s on the house. Hang around and we’ll chat.”
All of a sudden, I felt a lot less alone. I had an Airborne buddy in Sedona. The Army Airborne is a tight fraternity. It’s a lot like the Marines, but with only 73 years of gallant history, and without the utter shame of being a subservient branch of the Navy Department.
“I’m Tony Giordano,” I said, offering my hand. “I’d like a hot dog.”
“Don’t do dogs. How about an Italian sausage?”
“Already have one,” I responded.
“I’m sure,” Grimes said as he laughed. “Would you like it barbequed?”
“That would be a big no,” I demurred. “I’ll load my car and wander back.”
“I’m ready to close this down for the night. I’ve got a couple of cold ones at my place. You interested?”
“Absolutely.”
It took Eddie 20 minutes to serve the remaining customers and close down his operation. After packing up his gear, Eddie walked over to me and handed me a grilled Italian sausage on an excellent wheat roll. He had one for himself. He carried a six-pack of diet coke in the crook of his arm. We got inside his truck and began to eat. I’d forgotten how hungry I was. I inhaled the sausage.
“When did you retire?” Eddie asked me.
“1992,” I said. “I had my twenty and I got an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“What was that?”
“After Vietnam, I got out, finished college, went to law school, and went back in as a JAG. So, in 1991, I was working at the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Tampa. They offered me a job as an assistant U.S. Attorney.”
“No shit? Tampa?”
“Yeah. Been in Tampa ever since,” I said as I finished my first Diet Coke and accepted a second from Eddie.
“My daughter used to live in Tampa,” Eddie said. “That was fourteen years ago. She went to U.T. Interned at HHS. She’s a special agent and works out of San Francisco now.”
I have to stop here. I told you earlier that I think everything happens for a reason. There is no serendipity. Sure, we have free will, but those choices occur in a context.
There is no chance that I would run into Eddie Grimes by mere happenstance. At that moment, I understood that I was meant to stay in Sedona and hook up with Eddie. I knew that I would get somewhere on my journey toward enlightenment.
“Eddie, you have a daughter in HHS?”
“That’s right.”
“She’s beautiful, intelligent, has a great sense of humor, works hard, and wears a nose ring.”
Eddie looked at me as if he’d seen a ghost. “You know Yvette?”
“She was an intern and worked on a fraud case that I prosecuted in 1998 and 1999.”
“You were the prosecutor on that case? The medical-fraud-of-the-century case?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Geez, Yvette talked about you a lot,” Eddie explained. “She said that you could be a real son-of-a-bitch. She told me that she liked you as a person, but was glad that she got to go to L.A. She said with you, it was always your way or the highway.”
“Gee, Colonel Grimes,” I said, remembering that Yvette’s father retired was a light colonel. “I suppose when you were in the Army, you’d gather all your soldiers, have them hold hands, feed them pie and cake, take a poll, and let them run your outfit in a kumbaya manner.”
“Fuck no! I told Yvette that I never tolerated anyone who complained about a competent leader and didn’t give a hundred and ten percent,” Eddie said, as we fist bumped.
“What did you retire at?” Eddie asked, wanting to know my highest rank.
“Light colonel, like you.”
“What’s your date of rank?”
“1 February 1988.”
“Shit.” Eddie complained.
“I’m senior, huh?”
“Yeah. But I retired as an Infantry officer. What are you doing in Sedona?”
“Do you have an hour? I’ll explain.”
“Sure, love to hear this. I’ve got nowhere I have to be.”
I started at the beginning and brought Eddie up to speed.
“Tony, that’s one wild story,” Eddie said an hour later, as he looked at the post card of the Christus.
“Eddie, one of the reasons that I remember your daughter so well is that she told me that after you moved here, you had a similar experience.”
Eddie jerked his head back so fast that I feared that he’d have whip lash. He turned toward me and glared.
“Yvette told you that I’d seen strange lights?” He growled.
“She didn’t say that it was a confidence. Your encounter was an affirmation. As the years passed, sometimes I’d wonder whether the whole thing in 1966 was a dream.”
“My experience in 1999 was real, all right. It was at dawn. Infantrymen get up at dawn. You JAG wimps sleep in.”
“That’s right, until 0500. What happened?”
“I was in the slot between Bell Rock and Courthouse Butte. It’s a beautiful little trail. Even JAGs could manage it. The sky was full of stars and the moon had set. It was calm and cold, a brisk morning.”
“Go on.”
“I saw a bright light off to the north, moving at a mind-boggling speed. Seconds later it hovered over my position. It began to descend until I could see a glowing disc about the size of a small pie plate. It emitted a pale, white light. It was eerie and hard to describe. I admit that I was mesmerized. I know I should have been afraid, but I f
elt calm and focused.”
“What happened next?”
“It hung over me for three or four minutes. I don’t remember a single sound. After a bit, it juked around a lot, back and forth and all around. Then it shot west out of sight.”
“Other than your daughter, did you ever tell anyone else?”
“No, of course not. I don’t want to spend my retirement in an asylum.”
“You’ve been here fifteen years now, right?
“Yeah, I guess. Boy, time flies.”
“Ever see the lights again?”
“Not like the first time, but there’s strange stuff in the Sedona sky, day and night.”
“You’ve never discussed your sightings with anyone?”
“You mean, other than my blabby daughter?”
“That’s right.”
“My wife.”
“Will you discuss them with me?” I asked.
“Maybe, but not now. You said that you’re here for another week?”
“Yep.”
“You still at that fancy resort?”
“No, I’m at the Super 8 down the street.”
“Not anymore. You’re staying with me. I’ve got a nice house with two spare bedrooms. You’ll be more comfortable there. It’ll give us more time to talk, coordinate, and execute our plan to find the Christus.”
“Our plan?” I asked, relieved to have discovered an ally.
“Yeah, it’s our plan now. You’re not doing this by yourself. I’ve got your back.”
Chapter Nine
August 26, 2013, 9:15 PM
1651 Rodeo Drive
West Sedona, Arizona
The folks at the Super 8 charged me for one day when I went in to check out. They were more than reasonable.
Eddie’s directions were convoluted, but Siri guided me. I wish that the Apple technicians would do a better job with her voice. I’d prefer something closer to Catherine Deneuve.
Eddie lives in one of the western-most subdivisions of West Sedona. His house proved to be a delightful medium-sized, single-family stucco in the southwestern pueblo style. He’d painted it a mauve-toned brown, which complimented the red rocks, natural terrain, and desert flora surrounding his property. When I pulled into the driveway later that night, I saw his big truck close to the house.
After I knocked on the massive wooden door, Eddie opened it, let me in, and gave me a hearty welcome.
“How do you like Casa Grimes?” he asked as he slapped me on the back and thrust a cold Sierra Nevada into my hand.
“It’s very nice,” I replied as I looked around the foyer and into the great room, which sported an immense two-story window that faced northwest.
The view must be spectacular in the daylight, I thought. “You furnished the place very tastefully, Colonel,” I said.
“Yvette’s mom did all of that. I’m a grunt. I don’t know anything about designer shit, but Mary sure did.”
“Did?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“My wife passed about four years ago. Breast cancer. I’m glad that she had ten years in Sedona before the end. She loved it here.”
“Sorry, Eddie,” I said in weak consolation.
“Yeah, me too. I miss her. She was a truly beautiful woman in body and spirit. She’s the reason that we moved here. But hey, let’s get you settled.”
“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate your hospitality.”
“I’m looking forward to the company and the mission that we’re on. Besides, you need watching out for. You don’t understand this place anymore or how it can work.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Take your gear to the back bedroom. It’s down the hall. It has its own separate bath and a little sitting area. You’ll be comfortable there. After you unpack, come back to my study and we’ll have a serious chat.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said. I picked up my carry on and put the strap over my shoulder. I pulled the handle out of the larger suitcase and wheeled it down the hallway.
The bedroom turned out to be large and restful. I spent ten minutes unpacking and freshening up before I walked back to talk to Eddie.
“Find everything to your satisfaction?” Eddie asked as I stood in the doorway to his well-appointed study. “Come on in and sit down,” Eddie motioned to a comfortable looking chair across from his big wooden desk, where I had a view of his ‘I love me’ wall with all of his citations, medals—including a Silver Star and a Purple Heart with an oak leaf cluster—and plaques.
“Eddie, this is a neat house. I appreciate you taking me in. That kind of camaraderie is above and beyond the call of duty.”
“It’s the least I can do for a Paratrooper who used to work with Yvette. Besides, you need someone to look out for you here.”
“You mentioned that earlier. What are you talking about?”
“You’ve noticed that Sedona is not the simple village that you knew forty years ago?”
“True enough. I like it better. It’s more livable, hasn’t lost its charm, hasn’t compromised the red rocks, and is still spiritual.”
“You’re right about all of that. Yet Sedona remains a small town. While we get millions of visitors a year, less than twenty thousand people live around here full time. A small group of locals might not appreciate the purpose of our quest.”
“Explain that please.”
“You understand that different religious and philosophical groups interpret the mystical nature of this place according to their own belief systems, right?”
“Sure, I got that loud and clear from the New Age folks.”
“The priest told you that if the inter-dimensional aliens existed that they could be the beings that we call angels, right?”
“Yeah, more or less.”
“Don Hansen said that the angels can be good and some can be bad, evil, manipulative, and demonic?”
“Yes, which I saw as consistent with the lessons from the Christian and Jewish dogmas. Catholics believe that Michael and Gabriel work on the good side, Satan and his horde on the bad.”
“Tony, do you realize that there could be folks around here who follow and venerate the demons?”
“No, but I get your point. I should have considered that possibility. I don’t know why I missed it. On the battlefield, you and I have seen the evil that men do. I encountered that evil when I prosecuted violent crime in Florida. In my current job, I see it when I review the violent crime investigations that our deputies and detectives in Tampa generate. Some humans can be totally depraved.”
“Yes, they can. Let me ask, you a question.”
“OK.”
“What do you think happened to your friend?”
“Don’t know, yet.”
“Bullshit!” Eddie shot back. “From the way that you told the story two hours ago, you’ve fantasized that inter-dimensional beings abducted him to keep the secret. Right?”
“Isn’t that a possibility?” I asked.
“Maybe, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s start out by agreeing that what was on the Cross in the chapel was an iron sculpture. It was never alive in any way. Think this through, Tony.”
“I agree. What’s your point?”
“That sculpture hung from that Cross in the chapel for over twenty years. Then, someone took it down. The stories that Ms. Staude came back and removed it make the most sense. That’s the real explanation.”
“If you’re right then there’s no mystery.”
“Not so fast,” Eddie began. I’ve lived here a long time. Before I became the king of local barbeque, I ran an I/T operation that provided computer related services to local small business, including over thirty artists, sculptors, and writers.”
“You were a computer geek? I thought you were Infantry blue through and through. One more river to cross, snake eater, and all that. You’ve been giving me shit for being a Judge Advocate and you’re Information Technology?”
“I’m impressed. Why’d you get out of the business?”
“I got tired of fixing everyone else’s glitches, problems, and meltdowns. When Mary got sick and I had to care for her, I didn’t want those distractions. I sold my business and set up the barbeque gig so I could spotlight my superior culinary skills and make a buck.”
“What’s all this got to do with the mystery of the missing Christus?”
“Based on years of working with the artists around here, I’m certain that Ms. Staude didn’t give a crap what other folks thought of the Christus. It’s possible that she took the statue down and destroyed it. But if she did, it wasn’t because of public criticism. She had some other reason.”
“So?” I asked.
“We find the real reason why Ms. Staude, or whoever, removed the Christus, and we’ll learn the true motive for the Catholics to end religious services at the chapel. When we unravel those two riddles, we’ll know what happened to Ostergaard. At least we’ll know why he disappeared,” Eddie said.
“Any speculation, Colonel Grimes?” I asked.
“No, but your abduction theory has some merit.”
“So you do think extraterrestrials or inter-dimensional beings vacation in Sedona?” I asked, trying to be jocular.
“Maybe. Like you, I’ve seen the lights. It’s possible. Folks claim closer contact than you and I have had. They’re not all crazy.”
“What’s next, Eddie?”
“We execute your five-point plan. I’ll do the computer work. I’ve never seen a JAG who could find his ass with either hand where computers are concerned. You do the other stuff. Remember, this is far more complicated and a whole lot more serious—even more dangerous—than you thought. We have to be careful.”
“Careful is my middle name,” I said.
“If this is your idea of careful, we are in a world of shit.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Don’t mention it. Want another beer?”
“Yes, I do.”