Blue Ridge Breeze

by Ed Robinson

  “Listen to me, Breeze,” said Fred. “Willis here works with some of the most powerful people in the country, especially in Washington. He’s not used to dealing with boat bums, so cut him some slack. I’ve been assured that he will do whatever is necessary to help solve your problem. That’s why we’re here. Tell him your story.”

  I started at the beginning with the death of my friend Pop at the hands of Cody Banner. I included the lack of interest from both the Watauga County Sheriff’s Department and the Banner Elk Police. I explained our relationship with the FBI, and how they came in to cover up for us. I moved on to the Tom Shook debacle and the subsequent harassment from the Chief.

  “Why don’t you have the FBI come in again,” Thompson asked.

  “We wore out our welcome with them,” I said. “The only reason they helped the last time was that Brody once had a fling with the Deputy Director. He assured us that he’d already done too much and advised we not call him again.”

  “You once had a lifeline at the Bureau, but you overstepped your bounds and got cut off?” he asked.

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “Now you’ve made enemies out of the local law enforcement,” he said. “Maybe you deserve it.”

  “Enemies are one thing,” I said. “The Chief trying to destroy my life is another.”

  “Just so I’m clear,” he began. “You did not kill Shook. You did take the weed, and those were your footprints at the pot farm.”

  “Correct,” I said. “If the Chief is resourceful enough, if he keeps at it, he might eventually pin some crime on me.”

  “If that doesn’t work he’ll invent one,” Brody said. “He’s got it in for Breeze.”

  “And you think that is a result of what the dead guy might have told you about his wrongdoing?”

  “I can think of no other reason for the level of animosity we see,” I said. “I’m a threat.”

  “It will be my job to ruin the Chief before he takes you down,” Thompson said. “I’m quite skilled in this particular tactic.”

  “What tactic is that?” I asked.

  “Within a matter of days a campaign will begin to mangle the reputation of your foe,” he said. “Rumors will be leaked to all surrounding agencies, not just police but fire and rescue departments. Everyone right down to the dog catcher will hear bad things about the Chief. Everyone will become aware of his affair with Shook’s wife. The mayor and town manager will be pressured to fire him. Local and state politicians will call for his resignation. Small groups of protestors will gather outside of his office asking for his head on a platter. Each protestor will have a valid North Carolina Driver’s License with a Banner Elk address. News media will receive sourced allegations concerning untoward behavior by the Chief. Some of them will be false, but the narrative will be created. Sexual harassment, misuse of taxpayer funds, he kicks puppies for fun, that sort of thing.”

  “What if he stands fast?” I asked. “Won’t resign.”

  “He will resign or be fired in disgrace, I assure you,” he said. “He’ll be forced to relocate someplace far from Banner Elk. You’ll never have to worry about him again.”

  “Sounds like an expensive operation,” I said.

  “Don’t you worry about the cost,” Fred said. “I’ve got it covered. Besides, if I don’t keep this cutthroat in work, he might not be available when I need him.”

  “I have many clients in Washington,” Thompson said. “As you can imagine, this type of work is in high demand these days.”

  “I’m aware,” Fred said. “I see it every day. At least we get to use it to our advantage in this case. You keep in mind, Breeze is a special friend of mine, as is Brody. Do not take this assignment lightly. I want the full professional treatment.”

  “You’ll get it,” Thompson said.

  He seemed to relish the opportunity to destroy a man’s character. I knew what I was getting into, and I approved, but it made me wonder how the man could sleep at night. I’d come too far to turn back now. The dominos were about to fall for the Chief. I’d have to stand back and watch them tumble. It was simply a matter of self-defense.

  Nine

  Captain Fred and Thompson moved to the bow to discuss their upcoming financial transaction. Brody and I went to the stern to see if we could catch a fish or two. O’Connor was happy that someone was finally going to get a line wet.

  “I’ve got big shrimp and pinfish in the live well,” he said. “The pinfish have been catching bigger fish lately.”

  “Pinfish it is,” I said.

  I baited Brody’s line first and let her drop it over. I had my line in shortly after. It was a calm day in the Gulf of Mexico. Now we could relax. I expected to feel out of place on the water, but it felt natural like I’d never left. O’Connor told us fish stories while we waited for a bite. He explained that the reef was basically a pile of rubble.

  “Don’t let your bait settle down in the rocks or you’ll get snagged,” he said. “Just kind of jig it off the top of the pile.”

  Brody reeled in a decent-sized snapper, and we put it on ice. I missed a few gentle taps before hooking into a grouper. It was undersized, so we threw it back. My second fish was much bigger. My rod doubled over, and the reel screamed like it was in pain.

  “Slow him down quick, or he’ll break you off in the rocks,” said O’Connor.

  I eased down on the drag a little and hauled back on the rod. I got the fish turned and headed my way, but it made a U-turn at the boat and dove back down.

  “Cobia,” O’Connor said. “Hang onto him.”

  “Kick his ass, Breeze,” yelled Captain Fred.

  “Get him, honey,” said Brody.

  Thompson sat on the bow with his arms crossed, looking disgusted to be in the presence of the lowlifes.

  I eventually won the battle, bringing the cobia to O’Connor’s gaffe. He snagged the fish expertly and slung it onto the deck. It thrashed about for an impossibly long time before finally running out of steam. I got high fives from everyone except Thompson, who turned his nose up at my catch.

  “Nice job, Breeze,” said O’Connor. “I can tell you’ve caught your share of big fish.”

  “Spent some time chasing tarpon,” I said. “Different kind of fight.”

  “Magnificent creatures,” he said. “But my clientele wants to eat what they catch.”

  “I’m satisfied,” I said. “Unless Brody wants to keep fishing, we can head back in.”

  “I’m ready to go,” Brody responded. “Our guest looks like he might puke at any minute.”

  “Don’s Dock back at Johns Pass will cook your catch for you,” O’Connor said. “Breeze, if you’ll drive for a few minutes I’ll get these filleted for you.”

  “My pleasure,” I said.

  My old trawler traveled at seven knots. The Jupiter could probably do fifty. I took it up to thirty knots and leveled off. A quick peek at the GPS gave me my bearings. I had to turn my hat around backward to keep it from flying off. Brody’s hair whipped in the wind. Everyone was smiling except Thompson. He kept it together though and didn’t get sick. When we got to the dock, he shook my hand.

  “You should probably stay down here for a few more days,” he said. “Give me a chance to get the ball rolling. If anyone questions you back in North Carolina, deny any knowledge. I’ll keep Fred apprised of our progress.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to do this,” I said. “I trust Fred. I’m sure you’ll handle the matter satisfactorily.”

  “It will be a devastating display of my abilities,” he said. “Good luck.”

  He walked up the boardwalk with purpose, happy to be getting away from the little people. He’d be back in Washington that night and probably hard at work soon after arrival. How Fred even knew of the man’s existence, I didn’t know, but I was about to be the recipient of his services. I didn’t want to know what it cost either. Fred had offered to pay, and I couldn’t refuse.

  We took our catch to Don’s Do
ck and sat down for a nice meal. Cold beers and conch fritters got us started. Fred was quite satisfied with himself.

  “I surprise myself sometimes with the things I can make happen,” he said.

  “I had no idea that the solution would be something of this magnitude,” I said.

  “Go big or go home,” he said. “If I can build airports I can handle a small town copper.”

  “What will you get yourself into next?” Brody asked.

  “I’ve been working on a project down in Columbia,” he said. “Can’t say what it’s about just yet.”

  “The wheels of commerce never stop turning,” I said. “You sure know how to grease them.”

  “Gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” he said. “I’d invite you down to my new boat, but I’m flying out tomorrow.”

  “Another Hatteras?” I asked.

  “Nothing but the best,” he said.

  Brody had the snapper while Fred and I devoured the cobia. There is nothing quite like fresh fish. The atmosphere was pleasant. Soft tropical music played in the background. It almost made me miss my old stomping grounds.

  “You two be careful when you get back home,” Fred said. “You never how a cornered man will react. His desperation might cause him to come after you one last time.”

  “If he comes at me man to man, he’ll lose,” I said. “It’s the power of his position that scares me.”

  “He’s about to lose that power.”

  We made a toast to Willis Thompson. Let the dirty work begin.

  Captain Fred continued to pay attention to Brody. He dominated the conversation. I kept mostly quiet, as I was prone to do in social situations. I let the two of them enjoy each other’s company. I enjoyed my beer. Eventually, Fred got around to giving me some advice.

  “When this is all behind you,” he said. “You should try to keep a low profile. The dead bodies are piling up on your mountain. You don’t need the kind of attention you’ve been getting.”

  “It all got dumped in my lap,” I told him. “Ask Brody.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Learn to say no. Learn to mind your own business no matter how much you want to get involved. Just let the world turn around you with the minimal amount of participation possible. Keep this gal in food and drink. Chop wood. Read books. Leave it at that.”

  “I hear you, Captain,” I said. “If only it were that easy.”

  “I mean it, Breeze,” he said. “Swallow your pride. Forget your sense of justice. I know how you are, remember? You don’t need this kind of action anymore. It’s time to settle down for good.”

  “You’re probably preaching to a brick wall,” Brody said. “I’ve had the same talk with him.”

  “Then it’s two against one,” he said. “I’m always here for you. You know that, but I’d rather you didn’t need me to bail you out any further. I want to know that you’re safe and happy up there in the woods.”

  “Your advice is well taken,” I said. “Hopefully the future is quiet and peaceful at Creekside Cabin.”

  We said our goodbyes and split up. Brody and I drove back to our hotel. We plopped down on the bed and vegetated in front of the TV, something we rarely did. I flipped through the channels until I decided that modern television programming was really bad. How do people watch this crap? We finally settled on reruns of MASH.

  We tried to kill time for the next two days, but it wasn’t easy. We’d seen the nicest white beaches and the clearest blue water in the world during our travels. The Tampa Bay area couldn’t compare. The west coast of Florida had suffered through a long bout of Red Tide over the summer. The water quality was poor, and the air quality was nothing like that of the mountains. We weren’t good tourists at all. We ended up finding a bookstore and picking up some paperbacks. We sat in our room reading when we weren’t out to eat.

  I considered what Willis Thompson was up to back at his office. I assumed he was hard at work executing a metaphorical hit on the Banner Elk Police Chief. I thought about that too. I would have rather dealt with the problem on my own, but once I’d reached out to Fred, I was obligated to follow through with his plan. He didn’t get to be a power broker without knowledge of how to deal with these types of situations. I almost felt sorry for the Chief, but not quite. He’d earned what was about to happen to him. He’d indirectly brought about Shook’s suicide. He’d destroyed the man, so I was okay with him being destroyed. Shook’s wife would probably be embarrassed as well, but she made her bed too.

  All I wanted was a quiet life of serenity with Brody in our little log cabin. I could never have guessed how much turmoil we’d find in a lonesome hollow in the mountains of North Carolina. It seemed idyllic when we’d decided to buy a home there. I guess high drama exists every place you go. My greatest accomplishment would be to figure out how to avoid it once and for all. I asked Brody what she thought about the topic.

  “I’ve told you before that it’s your fault,” she said. “But now that I think about it, that’s probably not true. The world has a surplus of bullshit. It’s just in your soul not to let the bullshit go unanswered. I don’t think you can help that, no matter what Fred says.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could,” I said. “It would make life a lot easier.”

  “Not if you couldn’t live with yourself,” she responded. “You are who you are, and that’s part of what I love about you. You’re a good man deep down inside, Meade Breeze. That’s something you need to accept. Let the past go. Do right when the opportunity presents itself. Do no harm otherwise.”

  “Maybe I’ve been trying too hard to right my wrongs,” I admitted. “That’s what drives me to get involved when I see injustice.”

  “Now you’re getting somewhere,” she said. “Let the shit storms pass us by.”

  “I’ll have to take it on a case by case basis,” I said. “Hopefully things will quiet down once the Chief is out of the picture.”

  We put our noses back in our books for another day before packing up and heading home. We decided to cut the return trip into two segments. That would allow an extra day for Thompson’s plan to start working and make traveling more comfortable for us. We got a room just south of Savannah. We didn’t even try the television. We went out to eat and lingered at our table until almost bedtime.

  It only took six hours to make it back home the following day. We were both relieved to see our cabin still standing, apparently untouched. We arranged our weapons in handy places before unpacking from our trip. Without television or internet, we had no way to know what was going on down in Banner Elk. We settled back into our home to await word from Captain Fred.

  We heard nothing for two more days. We decided to drive down into town for lunch. We could eavesdrop at the Banner Elk Café and pick up the local paper. The police station was on the outskirts of town next to the Flat Top Brewery. As we drove past we saw roughly a dozen picketers in the parking lot. They carried signs that said “Stop Corruption” and “The Chief Must Go.” I couldn’t hear what they were chanting, but it was a convincing picture. It looked like democracy at work. Concerned citizens were exercising their constitutional right to peacefully assemble. The word was out. The Chief was under fire.

  We parked across the street and walked to the café. The place was busy, but we were ushered to a table in the corner. Talk of the scandal was all around us. Folks in this town weren’t accustomed to this kind of gossip. The Chief was well-respected. There had been no hint of impropriety. Everyone was surprised to learn that he’d misappropriated funds and sexually harassed several women. His affair with Shook’s wife was now common knowledge too. One woman declared him responsible for the man’s suicide. The Banner Elk Café was better than any grapevine or office water cooler. The folks had their finger on the pulse of the latest accusations. The campaign to ruin the Chief was so far wildly successful. I had to give it to Thompson. He was getting it done.

  We barely spoke during lunch. It was more important to listen to the customers a
round us. It was clear that the Chief had been found guilty by the court of public opinion, even though almost every complaint against him was fabricated. That said a lot about our society today, but I tried not to think about it too deeply. I needed this to work. Brody and I needed the Chief removed in order to pursue our dream. We hadn’t asked for any of this, but we would damn sure be happy to put an end to it.

  As we drove out of town and past the police station, we saw that the crowd of protestors had grown, almost doubling in size. I assumed that some of the locals had joined in with the paid phony protestors. That was a good sign that the smear campaign was working well. The Chief didn’t stand a chance.

  As we drove down our driveway, we saw a State Police patrol car parked by the cabin. Rominger got out once we parked our car. He greeted me with a handshake and friendly small talk, so I figured I wasn’t in any trouble.

  “What brings you up here?” I asked.

  “The guys and me were wondering how you orchestrated this whole mess with the Chief down in Banner Elk,” he said. “Our boss is wondering too.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied. “What’s going on?”

  “Come on now,” he said. “The Chief came after you hard, now it looks like his career is over.”

  “He brought it on himself,” I said. “Whatever is happening to him.”

  Rominger gave me a good studying, trying to decide if I was telling the truth or not. I did my best not to let my expression reveal anything.

  “Our commander is a pretty smart guy,” he began. “He got some calls from important people. They all implicated the Chief in assorted sins. He did some checking around. He knows a lot of people in law enforcement and public service. Every agency head for fifty miles got similar calls, though not from the same people. My boss decided that the fix was in. He doesn’t know how or why, but he’s got good instincts.”

  “You think I could put together something like that?” I asked.