by T. J. Jones
Four of the cards were from clubs in Miami Beach with a few notes on the back, celebrity sightings, age of the clientele, and a couple of phone numbers with names. Possible talent? There were a few of his own cards with his name and number of the outfit he worked for.
The five cards I found in the notebook weren't any more enlightening. All five were from other talent agencies, affiliates, but none that were in Miami. One was from LA, which wasn't a surprising place to have a talent agency. The other four were from points scattered across the globe: Minneapolis, Buenos Aires, Dubai, and Singapore. All huge cities, with the exception of Minneapolis, all known as affluent and progressive, given their locations in the world. I knew very little about any of them. Really, I knew very little about any exotic places. I had joined the Navy to see the world, but most of the time it was from the deck of an aircraft carrier.
Each card had a name and a contact number for that individual as well as the number of the agency. It didn't make sense to hide them, since a quick Google search identified them as all part of the same franchise, International Talent. Maybe the names were the important part, but why hide them with the notebook? I decided I would let Maggie see the lists and the cards. A fresh set of eyes might be all it took and it was possible she knew things about Davey's business that I didn't. Edith had described her as having a lot of gumption. She had that, and a whole lot more.
***
Bayside was a private club on the water that anyone who was anyone on Point Road frequented. I wasn't sure I could even get in, much less just plop down at the bar and wait for Maggie to show up. I decided to go early and drove to the Saint John's Athletic Center. Bayside was visible from there, across a road and a couple hundred yards to the south, perched on hurricane posts out over the water. The parking lot was already full of Bentleys and Caddy's, and I knew my ratty old pickup would stand out, maybe even get towed. I parked in the lot of the workout place, figuring Maggie and I could walk over to Bayside together.
It dawned on me that I hadn't even asked what it was that Maggie taught. Yoga maybe, Pilates? I figured every other person in Florida was into one of those, at least the ones that were still spry enough to walk. I walked in and went to the desk. The woman behind the desk looked like she belonged at the gym, tanned and muscular, not a day less than seventy years old.
"I'm meeting Maggie Jeffries here, and I'm kind of early. Can I just hang around and wait for her?"
"You can wait for me Sweetie, I'm done at ten." She flashed me a nice smile.
I blushed and may have stuttered a little. "Probably couldn't keep up with you, and I don't imagine I better stand Maggie up."
"No, probably you better not." She chuckled. "Go down the hall there to the left, all the way to the back. There's a viewing area, kind of above the gym where the parents sit. There are half a dozen Moms and Dads back there. Can't miss it, all the way to the back."
I glanced at my watch, seven-forty, which meant twenty minutes of watching over-privileged children doing stretching exercises just because their parents wanted an excuse to get them out of the house. I followed the hall and went through an open door into what was more or less a small theater, elevated and separated from the small gym a story below by a large pane of glass. Quite an expense, just so the kids weren't interrupted by unruly parents. As a kid at public school, I'd seen fist fights break out between overly involved parents more than once. Of course, that was Soccer and this was Yoga, no chance of a fight here. Only it wasn't Yoga.
The kids were fourteen to seventeen, some of the boys as tall as me and in a whole lot better shape. There were probably twenty of them, girls and boys, and they were all focused on Maggie like she was the Dalai Lama dispensing ancient wisdom. It turned out she was just showing some fourteen-year old girl how to kick her would be attacker in the nuts.
I'm not a fan of Karate. Pepper spray or a whistle always seemed like a better option if you were a woman, but I've been told that's sexist. I tend to put my foot in my mouth when it comes to that sort of thing, but I'm working on it. That said, Maggie looked pretty damn cute in her little white Karate outfit.
I watched the rest of the class, and I was impressed. The couple sitting next to me had a daughter out on the floor wearing a white belt. A beginner, I was told. Derrick Lane was the son of an investment banker, studious looking, with a plump, pretty blond wife that was enthusiastic about Karate and Maggie in particular. She talked my ear off for a while, then started trying to pick my brain.
"Did you know that Maggie went to Japan for a year to get her last two certifications?"
"I'm an old family friend, just reconnected. Most of what I remember about Maggie, she was a ten-year old tom-boy with face full of freckles and a habit of showing up when I didn't want her to."
"I suppose you used to date Angie, and Maggie kept getting in the way?"
"Date would be an exaggeration, but I tried a lot." I shrugged.
"That poor girl, she's been through so much." Her husband poked her and gave her a black look. She laughed, eyes wide. "Not because you tried to date her, that's not what I meant. I just heard she took the thing with David Templeton killing himself really hard." Her husband leaned over and muttered something into her ear.
"Did you know Davey?" I asked. "He was one of my best friends when I was a kid."
"No, we just hear things. Everybody on the Point loves to gossip. Were you and David, you know, very close?"
I wanted to make her ask if I was bisexual, just for being so damn nosy. "Yes, we were very close, he was a sweet guy."
Her husband poked her with his elbow again and she went back to talking about Maggie. "Anyway, Maggie is like a third degree black-belt or something. She teaches the kids how to defend themselves if they have to, but she teaches them how to stay out of situations where they would need to, too. The Club is lucky to have her, and we are, as parents."
"Sounds like it. She looks like she really knows what she's doing." Maggie was demonstrating a takedown on a tall teenager who seemed to be enjoying himself. Sometimes gossip is based in fact, and the blond woman wanted to talk, so like an idiot, I encouraged her. "Angie isn't quite as level headed as her sister, I guess."
"Oh, I know. Angela was in the hospital at one point for quite a while, some sort of a breakdown."
"You mean after Davey died?"
"Then too? Not surprised. No, I was talking about a year ago, right before Maggie moved back here. That's why Maggie came back you know, to take care of Angela. Up and left her husband and just came running back because her sister needed her."
"Wow, that's a good sister, right?" I sure as hell wasn't going to volunteer anything different.
"I'm really surprised Maggie turned out as good as she did, what with their Dad being such an asshole." She gave her husband a quick look. I suspect he had pinched her. "Well, he is an ass, from what I hear. He spends all his time down south chasing women half his age, then comes home and ignores his poor wife, and does God knows what else. I've always heard he's a philandering pig and bereft of common decency."
"Enough Stacey!" Derrick finally said something. "You're just repeating gossip and it's never about something good. Practice is over, we need to get going." We all stood up as the kids started filing out of the gym and he extended a hand. "It was great to meet you Mr. Slater."
"You too, Derrick, Stacey." I tried to slip away.
"So, are you and Maggie dating now, Mr. Slater?"
I had to laugh, she had no filter. I gave her something. "Kind of like her sister, I'm trying a lot." She nodded and started to ask me another question but I turned and bolted for the lobby.
***
Maggie came out half an hour later, wearing a dress and heels, with her hair all piled on top of her head. I suddenly felt under-dressed. I had thrown on a decent shirt and long pants instead of my usual shorts. It was as accommodating as I wanted to be for the wealthy snobs of Point Road. She bit back a smile and I knew I'd screwed up.
"Wh
at? This is dressed up for me. Are they going to make me wear a house jacket that's been God knows where and smells like God knows who?"
"No, screw the Club. We'll take my car and run to the Players. It's a sports bar. Not as quiet, but who needs that, right?" She reached up and pulled at whatever it was that held her hair in place. Her chestnut locks tumbled free and fell half way down her back. She tipped her head back and shook the snarls out, combing it with her fingers, and I swear to Christ my heart stopped a couple of times.
The old hardbody behind the desk smiled knowingly and gave me a wink. "You two have fun, see you tomorrow, Maggie."
Maggie's car was a convertible, but it had rained so the top was up. She threw her Gym bag in the back and we drove north a couple miles to the sports bar. It was a little noisy, but we found a table in the back. The waiter brought us menus and we both got a beer. He insisted on listing off all the craft beer options, but she just went with a Bud Light. I was liking her more by the minute.
"I'm starving, were you planning to eat?" She flipped open the menu and started looking.
"Yeah, and now I can have a burger instead of whatever it is you rich people eat at that club."
She laughed. "Stop acting underprivileged. I'm having a burger too. Rich people are no different than us, they just bitch about different things."
"Us? I was including you with the rich people."
"I'm doing okay, but just because I have a free place to live. I think my Dad is hanging on by his teeth, but Angie is loaded. Charlie left her a pile when he died. If your plan is to date a rich girl, you should go after my sister again, because I'm not it." I sat there grinning, looking down at my menu. "What, what did I say?" She raised a brow.
"You said this was a date."
"I said if you want to date a rich girl, go somewhere else. I'm not admitting to anything." She was grinning and her face was red, which I took to be a good sign. We both studied the menu for a couple of minutes, then she started in on me. "If you're having a burger, you might want to pass on the fries."
"What are you saying? Are you implying I'm fat?"
"You aren't skinny. A private detective needs to keep in shape so you can chase after the bad guys. You need to come to my adult class, lose some weight and learn some moves."
"I know moves, we had training when I was an MA. Granted, I could drop ten pounds, maybe twenty. Are you volunteering to be my personal trainer?"
"If you came to my classes you'd slim down in a hurry. Or come running with me. No mercy though, you'd have to keep up. Probably have to be running, because this round of classes are almost over. Be a month before we start again."
"When you said you taught at the Club, I imagined something different."
"Careful. You're going to tell me you thought I taught Yoga or dance? Both are hard as hell by the way, so there's not much you can say that won't get you in trouble at this point."
I sighed deeply. "It's difficult being a man in the twenty-first century. You can't say anything without offending somebody, and for sure nothing that might get you laid."
"Digging a deeper hole."
"I'm kidding, kind of. But really, sometimes it's hard to know what not to say. I don't have any time for guys being inappropriate, grabbing girls and stuff, but I don't think I should get in trouble for telling you, you look nice."
"Not likely I'd get mad if you told me that."
"How about, you smell really nice?"
"That's always good to hear, nobody wants to smell bad."
"How about, I like the way you look and the way you smell, and I would like to take you back to my house and see what else I like about you."
She grinned back at me. "That's pushing it. You forgot to say please."
"Would that work?"
"Not one chance in hell, Sailor." She laughed. "Tell me about Davey. You were going to share those big leads with me."
"Not a good place for that, too noisy and dark. Davey hid some things in his room, some cash, a few business cards, and a notebook he had scribbled in. Weird notes, I couldn't really decipher them. But he went to the trouble of hiding them, so maybe they're important. I was hoping you might get something from them, but we can look at them next time I'm at your house."
"I can stop over at your place sometime, I don't want to get Angie going about this any more than she already is."
"If you come over, I'll be a perfect gentleman. Don't need to get my ass kicked by a pretty girl. Sorry, was that sexist too?" She gave me a pass on that one. "How'd you turn into Bruce Lee anyway?"
"It started as exercise, but Richie and I weren't getting along so it got to be therapy after a while. It's really self-empowering, helped me keep my head on straight. I got kind of obsessed though, even went to Japan for a couple months."
"Stacey, one of your student's mom, she said it was a year. She's quite a gabber."
"Yeah, I'll say. She tends to exaggerate everything she talks about, just to make it more interesting. By now everybody at Bayside figures you and I are doing it out behind the Club."
"Interesting concept, but I know what you mean. She likes to gossip. She really wanted to talk about Angie. She mentioned Angie had been in treatment or had a breakdown of some sort?"
"I came back from Japan early, to help my Mom deal with her. You know she's bi-polar, right? Angie, not my Mom."
"I didn't, but that explains a whole lot of things. I always thought it was just teenage hormones, because she couldn't seem to decide if she loved or hated me from one day to the next."
"She's that way with everybody. My Dad has never been diagnosed, but I swear he's the same way. That was part of why I got married so young, to get away from their craziness. Everybody thinks my Mom is antisocial, but she's just made herself numb to all the crap she's had to put up with over the years. Like I said, I love my sister, but she's a handful. My Dad, he's never around, and I can't remember a time when he was. Angie talks about the trips we all took, but I don't remember any of that. Angie and Dad were always close. Me, not so much."
"Sorry. I was around a lot, but when you’re a teenager you don't notice stuff."
"You were pretty busy, my sister's pussy and all."
"Wow, you talk like you're the sailor."
"Sexist again Slater. I can cuss if I want. But you're right, I shouldn't be mean. You were a teenager, that's what teenage boys think about. For the record, I did have a bit of a girly crush on you back then." The waiter saved her from some teasing when he finally showed up to take our order.
"So, did Davey commit suicide?" She asked as we waited for our food. "What's the plan from here?"
I told her about the high railing and the broken chair. She pointed out the fact that Davey was fifty pounds lighter than me, so I had set myself up for that. "Still, there's enough to make me wonder. The hidden notes, the fact that he went to a meeting that night, the warning to Angie. Edith said he drove through the yard back to the barn, but who knows? Maybe the people who killed him were driving. It's possible he was already dead. Nobody checked for extra footprints in the barn or in the yard. The cops didn't investigate at all, nothing. Edith said it was pouring that night. She ended up wet and miserable walking to the barn, then found her only kid hanging there dead!"
"Take it easy." Maggie reached out to cover my hand, stroking it gently with a thumb.
I realized I had raised my voice and people were staring. "I'm sorry. Davey dying got to me more than I thought."
"I get that. He was a wonderful guy, and a big part of all our lives. We'll figure out what happened."
"We?"
"Yeah, I want to help. What's our next move?"
"Probably Miami. I'll have to go down there and talk to his roommate, go to the agency he worked at, maybe hit some of the clubs he went to."
"You walk into a gay bar alone and you're going to learn all about sexual harassment. You're like man candy. I'll have to go with you for backup."
"Really, you think I'm man candy?"
/> "Don't start! It's for the investigation, and it's Miami. Did you ever learn Spanish?"
"Are you kidding, English is hard enough. How about you?"
"Si Amigo. Hablo espanol con fluidez."
"Sounds like it could be Spanish." I grinned.
"It is, trust me. My classes are done Thursday of this week. I should stop over tomorrow and look at that notebook."
"I'll text you my address."
"I know where your house is Slater. I had a bicycle you know."
It took me a minute. "You mean you rode your bicycle all the way to my house? When you were ten?"
She squirmed uncomfortably in her chair and the freckles stood out again. "Yeah, girly crush, what can I say."
"You are never, ever, going to hear the end of that!" The waiter came back with our food so I had to stop laughing to feed my face, but I kept giving Maggie an occasional look. She kept her face buried in her food. Miami was going to be interesting.
Chapter Five
My crush on Angela Jeffries had not always been unrequited. At least my desire to take her to bed hadn't. The year I turned thirty I came back to Point Road for three weeks. I'd been saving up my leave to do some work on my mother's house. She was still healthy back then, optimistic because her little cleaning business was doing well, and she even had a boyfriend.
By that time of her life, cleaning whole houses by herself was getting to be too much for my mother and she had hired a couple of younger women to help her. The younger of the two was single and attractive. Damn hot is what she was, and very friendly. Her name was Junita Perez, and she was indirectly responsible for the one and only time I had sex with Angela Jeffries.
Every Tuesday afternoon my mother and her crew cleaned the Jeffries' home. During my leave that summer, when I wasn't working on my Mom's roof, I was usually at Angie's trying as always to coax a smile out of her. It rained that day, so I went to Point Road and parked on Angie's couch. For whatever reason, and her being bipolar explains a lot, she was in a really good mood that day. When my Mom came with her crew to clean, Angie pulled me out onto the covered porch and sat beside me on the small couch that looked out at the pool.
