Pennies for the Ferryman - 01

by Jim Bernheimer

  Favors didn’t pay my bills, but I owed Brother Silas and Pastor Duncan, if for no other reason than the fact that both of them didn’t think that I was nuts. They were fairly up front with me and Silas blessed the house before asking me for my help. The scheming part of me also realized that it wouldn’t hurt that I could use them as referrals for paying clients. “As long as it’s not going to interfere with my schoolwork, I’ll be happy to help.”

  Silas smiled and actually looked at me for a change. It’s a bit disconcerting being stared at by a blind man. After his injury and while Silas was doing rehab at the Maryland School for the Blind, he discovered that while he couldn’t see anything in the natural world, he could see things in the spiritual world – but not as sharply as I could see them. He’d explained it as seeing little blobs of light in an otherwise dark room.

  He could also see me, which was more than a little creepy. “I figured you would, Mike. Reggie’s inside telling your mother that we plan to take you out occasionally and let you do some volunteer work, build up your moral fiber and all that jazz.”

  Making a joke, I replied, “I’m not so certain I need fiber in my diet. Isn’t that for old folks?”

  The tall, black man roared with laughter. “You just keep saying that, young man! One day you’ll wake up and smell the Metamucil, just like the rest of us!”

  Mom left for work shortly after Pastor Duncan and Brother Silas departed. She seemed rather pleased with my new involvement with her pastor. I’m sure Mom thought that this would lead me back to church. Hopefully Pastor Duncan would be around when her bubble burst and she found out that they’re not really trying to help me cope with my delusions. Must be that ‘moral fiber’ garbage Silas was shoveling.

  My evening was booked solid. In other words, I’d scheduled a nice long ride on a beat up old stationary bike that Pastor Duncan and the folks at the church refurbished when I was first discharged from the Army. It was a nice gesture to help with my rehab that I failed to initially appreciate.

  Riding a bicycle to nowhere was boring, so I plugged a tape into the VCR. On the TV, I was watching the poorly filmed exploits of Darren Porter and his sidekicks, The Eye of Horus. They were investigating a spiritual disturbance in a Harrisburg cemetery. I kept a notepad and a pen handy to jot down anything useful that they might say. So far it was blank. Mostly, I kept an eye out for Karla Thompson, Darren’s girlfriend. She was certainly pretty enough. It was easy to see that the cameraman enjoyed following her around too. I wondered how much of the footage that wasn’t used was simply her backside in motion.

  Karla sported long reddish brown hair and blue eyes. Her build was that of a model, tall and lean. She also had quite the set of lungs on her and was the group’s resident screamer, guaranteed to raise the octaves at least once every episode. Some members of the team, including Darren, seemed to enjoy pulling an occasional prank on Karla, which was certain to produce more angry shrieks.

  I was stalking her, not in a creepy sense, but more in a literal sense. Darren told me to find her and that she had his notes and research material. Unfortunately, she dropped off the face of the Earth, so to speak, or at least she was beyond my limited resources. I sure hoped whatever he left with her was useful.

  In the past few weeks, I’d taken my workouts very seriously. Getting my ass handed to me by Charlie Snowden was a wakeup call. I planned, when I got enough spare cash, on signing up for some martial arts lessons. No sense in waiting for someone to show up with a haunted dojo or something. Lacking anyone to teach me, I went back through the drills from my wrestling days and practiced the moves the Army taught me for unarmed combat.

  Now, nice and limber, after having kicked an imaginary Bruce Lee’s hind side, I began to wonder if I could find a dead martial arts master to teach me. I dismissed this and went to my battered old set of free weights. Mom bought them for me when I made the wrestling team, years ago when I was a long-haired civilian. They hadn’t been out of my closet since I got my diploma. Lifting was just as tedious as riding the bike; I never really liked it. I was finishing my last set of reps and preparing to cool down on the bike when the doorbell rang.

  Cutting off the TV, I went to answer the door. It was too late in the day for the bible thumpers or the usual salesperson ignoring the “No Solicitation” sign. Mom’s friends knew where she was Saturday nights, so I was curious. My poker buddies weren’t likely to bother me on the weekend either.

  I opened the door and found a rather attractive blonde wearing a leather jacket.

  “Oh sugar, don’t say anything for a second, I just want to stare at you – standin’ there lookin’ all hot and sweaty like.”

  Without her uniform and with a new haircut, I almost hadn’t recognized her. The moment she spoke, it all clicked: Candy as in “sweet and easy to get.”

  “Hello, Officer McKenna,” I said warmly. “What’s a nice lady like you doing in the ‘burbs on a cold day like this.”

  I recalled she preferred to be called Candace nowadays as she laughed, probably at the “nice lady” comment and continued to eye me up and down. I was only in shorts and a T-shirt and Candy was clearly enjoying the view. “Well sweetness, if ya invite me in. I reckon that I can tell ya.”

  Her “country gal” accent was cute and I decided to let the Roanoke County Deputy into my humble home, shutting the door after her. Other than the clutter of my work-out equipment in the living room, Mom and I kept a pretty neat place. I offered her a drink and she declined, but she asked to use the restroom after her long trip.

  The intrigue built. Why she drove all the way from western Virginia to see me, I couldn’t say. Last time I saw her, she slid her card into my hand, the card with her cell phone number written on the back -- in case I was ever down her way again. Candy, Jenny Goodman’s cousin, was anything but subtle.

  I hadn’t thought of Jenny in a while. She’d been avoiding me like I had killed her mother or something! Well, come to think of it, that was a bad comparison, as I had sort of gotten rid of her ghost of a mom. Jenny’s paternal aunt, who works in admissions at Montgomery College, pulled a few strings and even after the deadline for switching classes, Jenny moved out of the one class we shared. After that, I tried to approach her once or twice and gotten her best “I’m sorry but this is for the best” routine, before I got the message – she didn’t want to see me anymore. Having hauled the ghostly trash out of her life, I was no longer worth her time.

  The crappy part of the deal was I’d still have to see her uncle, Detective Wycheck, since he was running the Charlie Snowden investigation. If there was a choice, I’d much rather eliminate her uncle from my life; I missed Jenny, just a bit.

  I pushed that out of my mind as the very friendly, very female police officer who wasn’t avoiding me exited my bathroom. “I like your place.”

  She was just trying to be polite. If she couldn’t pick up on the fact the house was my mom’s, I feared for the citizens of Roanoke County.

  “So, you were about to tell me what brings you up here on a Saturday?”

  “All business, aren’tcha?”

  “Well it is nice to see you, Candace, but I’m more than a little curious.”

  “Well I suppose we can visit after I do my official business.” Clearing her throat she reached into her purse and removed an envelope. “On behalf of the Roanoke County Sheriff’s Department and the Commonwealth of Virginia, I would like to present you with this here letter of ‘preciation and a check for one thousand dollars for your aid and assistance in solving a certain ‘missing persons’ case. It would’ve been only five hundred, but we found out his family had chipped in another five hundred – so blah, blah, thanks for everything and here ya go.”

  I didn’t know how most people lived, but it wasn’t every day that a pretty woman shows up at the Ross household and hands out a check. I probably had a stupid expression on my face, and I’m sure that’s when my normal disdain for the police warmed, just a little. Mr. “Cool Under Pres
sure” ended up giving Candy a big old sweaty hug.

  A few seconds later, the awkwardness set in and I backed off. She smiled at me. “I knew that would be better than just dropping it off in the mail! So, what’re ya gonna do with it?”

  It’d take care of that pesky transmission problem on Mom’s car. “I guess most of it will go to bills.”

  Candy made a “pooh-pooh” face. “That doesn’t sound like much fun. Going to have enough left over to treat my cuz to a nice dinner?”

  The plot was stirring, or maybe simmering – I never was much on metaphors, “Jenny and I aren’t really talking much anymore, and we never were dating.”

  The woman in front of me didn’t look surprised; rather she looked a bit amused. “Do tell; why on Earth not?”

  I shrugged, “Long story.”

  “In that case, you can buy me that nice dinner and ‘splain it to me.”

  I have to admit, I’ve always liked a woman who knows what she wants. “A bit forward aren’t you?”

  Giving a throaty chuckle she replied, “I only move in one direction, sweetness; now you go get cleaned up, into some nice clothes and think of where you’re gonna take me.”

  I hadn’t been out on the town in a long time. Other than a steak dinner with Jenny, it was even longer since I’d been with anything approximating a pretty girl. Thinking about the room on my credit card, I figured I was entitled to frivolously blow a bit of my reward money. “The Golden Bull is a nice place, with great food and less attitude than some of the other upscale places around here. You like dancing?”

  “Line dancing or clubbing?”

  “Clubbing.”

  “Well, I guess I should go get my LBD outta my car.”

  I was a little slow on the uptake, “LBD?” It sounded like a dangerous weapon.

  She let out a whimsical laugh, “Little Black Dress, silly.”

  “You brought a LBD with you?” I was right. It was a dangerous weapon, of sorts.

  “I wasn’t sure where this night would be going. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

  The flirting was so blatant that even an idiot like me couldn’t miss it. “And where do you think this night is going?”

  “Well that all depends on you now, sugar.”

  I hadn’t showered and changed so fast since my days in Iraq.

  In between bites of some fine tasting prime rib and relating my paranormal adventures, I asked, “So, just suppose I was dating Jenny. What would you have done?”

  Candy laughed, nibbling on her stuffed flounder. “Oh, I didn’t think I had to worry about that. Women in my family generally circle their prey like a shark for a while. I figured she’d still be stringing ya along. Turns out she was dumber than I ‘spected.”

  I suppressed any urge to defend Jenny. After all, she’d been the one lacking any spine. Of course that analogy made me bloody meat, floating in the ocean, which was slightly icky. “So why did you stop circling?”

  “I smelled blood.” She smirked at me and looked at something over my shoulder. “Don’t look now, but I think my li’l cousin just came in the door. Looks like she’s moved on.”

  Understandably surprised, I glanced, but made certain to be casual about it. Jenny wore a nice sweater and pants, looking her usual cute and perky self. The guy with her was pulled straight out of the pages of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. He was taller than me, but that describes much of the adult male population. I shrugged and turned back around. The most I’d gotten from Jenny was a peck on the cheek and a bunch of problems. Candy, on the other hand, brought a check – so, advantage to the strawberry blonde in the sizzling black dress.

  Turning around, I went back to eating. I could see Candy appraising my reaction. “What?”

  “Just checking to see if ya still had a thing for her.”

  “Not particularly. From what I see in front of me, it looks like I got the better deal.”

  “Oh that’s pretty smooth there, Mike.”

  I winked, “Be careful; there might be a hook in this bait.”

  She snorted, almost choking on her glass of wine. Fanning herself with her hand she muttered, “Oh that’s bad! We really should stop with the innuendo.”

  Jenny and her date were seated a few tables down from us. I liked my odds. I was dressed nicely and Candy looked fabulous. It almost made me rethink my whole thing for “women in uniform.”

  While pondering if my date had ever worn, or would consider wearing a French maid costume in the near future, I heard a female voice behind me. “Candy! What on Earth are you doing up here?”

  When had the odds ever gone my way?

  “Jenny, good to see ya! Isn’t it your birthday soon?”

  I turned around and said, “In that case, happy birthday a bit early, Jenny.”

  Her eyes went big as she figured out who the clean shaven guy in the dress shirt was. “Mike?”

  “Yes?”

  The big eyes were replaced with a cold stare and her face seemed to be getting a bit red. “When did you two start dating?”

  I gave Candy a quick glance to tell her to let me field this one. “It’s been, what, going on two weeks now, Candace?”

  “If it’s been a day, sugar!” It was nice to see she’d attack when she smelled someone else’s blood.

  Jenny wasn’t very good at hiding her emotions. The words, “I see,” looked like they were painfully squeezed out of her mouth.

  “And it’s been the best two weeks of my life!” Candy gave the figurative knife another twist. “We were headed out dancing after this if you … oh wait, I’m sorry you’re only turning nineteen. Well maybe next time I’m up here we can do something.”

  “Is everything okay?” her date asked, walking up. “I went ahead and ordered your iced tea.”

  “Everything’s fine.” Jenny said through another bout of oral constipation.

  “Carlton Binstock.” The guy stated, reaching his hand out to me. Yeah, the name fit just as well as his preppy image. He had a firm handshake though; I guessed either business or law school.

  “Mike Ross and this is Candace McKenna.”

  The strapping young man shook Candy’s hand while Jenny said, “Candy is my cousin. Mike and I go to college together.”

  Carlton looked me over. “You’re a freshman?”

  “Got out of the Army last spring. Gotta start somewhere.”

  “Naturally. Well thank you for your service to our country.”

  Good god, I hated that condescending line! It just sounded so damn fake coming out of most people’s mouths. During my rehab, I heard it all the time, so much I’d gotten sick of it! For people who watch enough of that Sunday morning political garbage, it ends up being some kind of Pavlov dog response the moment anyone in the military comes along. The full line should be, “Thank you for your service to our country, better you than me!”

  I fought back the urge to strangle him and instead answered, “Thanks, I appreciate it. So where do you go to school?”

  “George Mason, first year in Law.”

  I began wondering if I had other psychic powers. Maybe it this whole ghost thing didn’t work out I’d have a future in carnivals guessing people’s weight?

  I continued on, “Looks like Candace is the only one of us making an honest living. She’s a Deputy in Roanoke.” I said it with pride.

  “Well, I still have to powder my nose. I’m very happy for the two of you!” Jenny spun and walked off, leaving her bewildered date standing there. He begged off moments later.

  Candy could barely contain her grin, “You’re one evil, evil man, Mr. Ross.”

  I felt cheeky. “Behind every good man is a good woman. Behind every evil man is …”

  “Watch it! So, how much did she say about little old me on your trip back?”

  “Not much after I said you weren’t my type and you and I’d probably never date.”

  “Oh really?” she drawled in reply.

  “It got her off the topic and it was a long drive ba
ck. Of course I’m probably lower than dirt in her eyes right now.”

  “Ya realize that ya just ruined lawyer boy’s night.”

  “Yeah, well, that was just a bonus. I’m sure he’ll survive.”

  Her look became a tad predatory, “Should I go check on my cuz?”

  “Let’s just get the check and go dancing. No need to torment her anymore. That’d just be cruel.” She did the “pooh-pooh” face again as I motioned for our waiter.

  I suppose “karma” gets angry when you poke her, or in my case, when I took too much enjoyment ruining Jenny’s night out. It explains why after a few hours of dancing, I stood in my bathroom patting Candy on the back while she emptied her stomach into the toilet.

  After returning from dinner, I invited her to come back inside. It certainly was a long way to drive back at such a late hour and I’m supposed to be a gentleman. A hotel was a perfectly good waste of money.

  As always, fate had a series of hanging curve balls waiting for me. Strike one consisted of my mom waiting for us; it wasn’t really a strike, but more a foul ball.

  Having a woman in the house still felt a little taboo, which I suppose only added to the awkwardness. Sure I was twenty-three and this wasn’t like when I snuck a girl into my room as a teenager and got caught. I was an adult and contributed to the household.

  Nevertheless, Candy and my mother traded pleasantries for much longer than my liking. Mom didn’t even bring a blanket and a pillow out for me to sleep on the couch. I guess she realized I was growing up, not exactly a Norman Rockwell moment, but then again I wasn’t expecting one.

  Nonetheless, I was glad that Mom’s room was on the other side of our house, when she wished us both a goodnight. Candy turned out to be every bit as frisky as I suspected.

  Quite honestly, for the first time since that roadside bomb, I felt like a man again, something a woman could actually desire. After a few hours of dancing, or as I saw it, dry-humping out on the dance floor, my rebuilt leg promised that there’d be hell to pay in the morning. Still, she reminded me how much I’d missed being close to a woman. My useless therapist back at good old Walter Reed would’ve been proud. I’d reached another milestone in my “recovery.”