by B R Snow
“No, I don’t. Do you?”
“Yeah. It’s your father.”
“What?” she said, baffled.
“Jansmid is John Smith. It’s a play on his name translated into Czech and Dutch.”
“That’s it?” she said, scowling. “It’s that simple?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid it is,” I said.
“Then I have to say that I’m more confused than ever,” she said, gently touching one of the bruises on her face. “What on earth is he up to? Why all the subterfuge? It’s not his style at all.”
“His style? I’m not sure I’m following,” I said.
“My father is a pretty simple man,” she said. “If he can’t buy it, build on it, or sleep with it, it doesn’t get his attention.”
“And in the past, he always just took challenges on headfirst?”
“Yeah, it was sort of his calling card. Maybe the politics of this one are a bit tricky.”
“Trying to develop Owen Island isn’t going to be easy.”
“Tell me about it,” she said. “He’s in the fight of his life on that one. And that’s just me. Wait until I get a dozen lawyers involved and half a million signatures on a petition. I don’t get that one. There are dozens of islands in the Caribbean he could buy and build on.”
“Maybe he wants it for sentimental reasons,” I said, tossing out an idea that had been nagging at me.
“Sentimental? My father?” she said, laughing.
“Well, he and your mom did get married there,” I said.
She stared at me then glanced over at Sylvia who was also dumbfounded.
“You didn’t know that’s where they had the ceremony?” I said, surprised by the news.
“I didn’t have a clue,” she said. “Sylvia?”
“No, neither one of them ever mentioned it,” Sylvia said.
“It was probably a bad memory for both of them,” Matkazeme said. “Something they both wanted to forget. Can I go see Earl now?”
“I don’t see why not,” Detective Renfro said. “But then I’m going to have to bring both of you in for some more questioning. We still have an unsolved murder on our hands, and you two spent a lot of time with the victim.”
I drifted off and stared out one of the windows for a long time before turning back to the detective.
“Would it be possible to wait a day on that, Detective Renfro?” I said.
“Excuse me?” he said, frowning at me.
“I think we can wrap this up tomorrow night.”
“And just how do you plan on doing that?” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
“Basically by putting all the players in one place and getting them talking,” I said.
“Just like that?” he said, shaking his head. “That’s all it’s going to take?”
“Well, they might need a little help,” I said, grinning. “And that’s where you and Matkazeme will come in. I’ll explain it in the car.”
“So, I’ll be able to get Earl back tomorrow night?” Matkazeme said.
“Absolutely,” I said, then realized how much I was dreading having the conversation with my mother about giving the King Charles back to his rightful owner. “If you can stay here with Sylvia one more day out of sight, I think we’ll be able to put all this behind us.”
“It would be nice to finally make some sense of all this,” Matkazeme said.
“I said we might be able to put it behind us, I’m not sure any of it is ever going to make a lot of sense.”
Chapter 28
Detective Renfro dropped me back off at the shelter, but I wouldn’t get out of the car until he finally promised to give my somewhat sketchy plan a chance to work. At first, he had resisted and considered my idea incredibly stupid and juvenile without ever actually using those exact words. But when I pushed back and turned snarky, asking him in the most patronizing tone I could come up with if he had a better idea, he acquiesced and agreed to play his part the best he could. He drove out of the parking lot too fast, and his tires kicked dust and sand into the air that drifted and then landed on me. I could have sworn I saw him grinning through the rear-view mirror while I was brushing myself off.
I headed into the shelter and noticed that the crowd had thinned considerably since I’d left. My mother and Teresa were sitting behind the reception desk counting a stack of personal checks, credit card slips, and a pile of cash. I approached, placed my elbows on the counter and leaned forward to get a closer look.
“What did you guys do? Rob a bank?” I said, peering down at the three stacks.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” Teresa said. “It was like your mom had some sort of power over them. They just kept coming up to me and handing over their money.” She stared at my mother, obviously amazing and impressed. “How do you do that?”
“She’s an avid collector of compromising photos,” I said, laughing.
“Funny, darling,” my mother said, jotting the total of the credit card slips on a slip of paper. “It’s called knowing how to work a room. Okay, that’s the final number.” She handed the piece of paper displaying the grand total to Teresa. “That should keep you guys in dog food for a while.”
Teresa whistled, then pulled my mother close and gave her a fierce hug.
“I need to show this to Rocco,” Teresa said, about to head off, but stopping to give my mother another bone-crushing hug. “Thank you so much.”
We watched her head off, then I smiled at my mother.
“You didn’t really need to do that, Mom. But thanks.”
“Don’t mention it, darling. Trust me, they’ll never miss the money. And most of them are animal lovers.”
“I see,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “And the ones that aren’t?”
“They’re followers who are easily guilted into doing the right thing,” she said, laughing.
“You’re too much. And my timing isn’t very good, but I need to ask you for another favor.”
“Okay,” she said, sitting back in her chair and giving me her undivided attention. “What do you need?”
“I need you to organize a little dinner party.”
“I see. Does this have something to do with John Smith and his daughter?”
“It has everything to do with them,” I said. “Oh, and it also deals with who shot Teresa’s ex-husband.”
“You have been busy, haven’t you, darling? I take it you located the woman,” she said, draping a leg over her knee.
“I did. And apart from some bruises and the fact that she’s been chained to a bed, she’s fine,” I said, dreading where the conversation was about to go.
“Chained to a bed?” she said, frowning. “Who on earth did that to her?”
“Gavin.”
She shook her head, disgusted.
“I’m sure you’ll explain everything at some point. When would you like to have this dinner party?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?” she said, nodding. “Okay. It’s pretty short notice, but I’m sure we can figure something out. And I assume you have a specific group of people you’d like to invite?”
“I do.” I handed her a slip of paper. She studied the list of names then slid it into her pocket. “Will seven o’clock work?”
“Perfect,” I said, then grimaced. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.”
She glanced up at me and waited.
“You’ll need to give Earl back tomorrow night.”
“Okay,” she said, slowly nodding her head. “Of course.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“No, it’s all right. He needs to be reunited with her. And I have two other wonderful dogs that I can’t imagine being separated from. She must have been going crazy worrying about Earl.”
“She was,” I said, trying to read her face. “You’re handling this very well, Mom.”
“He’s not my dog,” she said, shrugging. “Can I ask you a question, darling?”
“Sure, Mom.”
“What are the
chances someone is going to get shot at dinner tomorrow night?”
“Oh, that’s highly unlikely,” I said, shaking my head. “I’d put it at no higher than five percent.” I gave it some more thought. “Ten, twenty percent tops.”
Chapter 29
Gerald and my mother listened closely to what I was saying, and then both sat back in unison and folded their arms across their chests. They reached for their Mudslides at the same time, took identical sips, then set their drinks down and placed their elbows on the table as they leaned forward.
“How long did you guys practice that?” I said, grinning back and forth at them.
“It’s the universal move for dealing with an insane person,” my mother said.
“Tell me about it,” Gerald said. “I’ve heard some bizarre ideas, but you’ve outdone yourself, Suzy.”
“Did you speak with him today?” I said to Gerald.
“I did,” he said softly.
“And?”
“And his reaction was what you might expect. He was furious.”
“Okay, that’s a good start,” I said.
“You do know that if you’re wrong, it’s going to take him a long time to get past this,” Gerald said.
“I’m not wrong,” I said, hoping my false bravado passed the smell test.
“I just can’t believe it,” my mother said. “Getting angry about being double-crossed on a deal is one thing. But that’s insane.”
“Not if you look at it from his perspective,” I said, draining the last of my Mudslide. “Can I get you guys another drink?”
“No, I think I need to keep a very clear head,” Gerald said. “Just in case the Premier calls me later this evening demanding my resignation and your deportation.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Gerald,” I said, getting up out of my chair.
I headed for the makeshift bar and poured myself a glass of club soda. Gerald might be acting overly dramatic, but I decided that maintaining a clear head was probably a good idea. Josie and Chef Claire were chatting, and I sat down in the empty recliner between them and stretched out.
“What are you guys talking about?” I said, staring up at the early evening sky.
“We were just trying to come up with ideas for the best way to accessorize a bulletproof vest,” Josie deadpanned.
Chef Claire snorted.
“Don’t start,” I said. “You’re worse than Gerald. Nobody is going to get shot. We’re just going to have a discussion and let it take its natural course.”
“Can we at least eat first?” Josie said. “Dodging crossfire always ruins my appetite.”
Chef Claire snorted again.
“Don’t encourage her,” I said, giving Chef Claire the evil eye. Then I spotted John Smith making his way across the lawn. He waved to us, then sat down at the table with my mother and Gerald. They were soon engrossed in a serious conversation. I noticed Henry leaving the grill area and heading our way.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said, grabbing a beer from an ice chest.
“What are we having?” Chef Claire said.
“Nothing extravagant,” he said, taking a long pull on the beer. “Short notice and all that. We’ve got chicken, and I picked up some snapper that looked really fresh. We’ve got a couple of salads, and Chef Claire brought a chocolate cake home from the restaurant. Don’t worry, you won’t starve.”
“You’re a good man, Henry,” Josie said. “Are you going to be joining us?”
“No, I had a chat with your mother earlier, and she explained the best she could,” he said, shaking his head at me. “And I think I might sit this one out. But I’ll be around just in case things head south.”
“Nothing is going to happen,” I snapped. “I wish you people would let it go.”
“Let it go?” Josie said, grinning. “Look who’s talking.”
“Just relax. Okay?” I said, getting up off the recliner. “Let’s go sit down and enjoy our dinner.”
I led the way as the three of us walked across the lawn and sat down at the dinner table set for nine. My mother, trailed by Gerald and John Smith, approached the table from a different direction and took their seats.
“Good evening, ladies,” John Smith said to the three of us, then glanced around at the other place settings. “We seem to be missing a few people.” He unfolded his napkin and draped it across his lap.
“I’m sure they’ll be here,” my mother said.
Henry approached carrying two trays. He set them down, headed off, then returned shortly with the bowls containing the salads. He asked if we needed anything else, then excused himself. I watched him head for the guesthouse carrying his dinner. I spooned some salad onto my plate, selected a couple pieces of chicken, and began picking at my dinner. I glanced up and noticed John Smith staring across the table at me. I waited it out.
“Gerald said there was something you wanted to discuss with me?” he said, using his hands to work on a piece of chicken. He took a bite, chewed it slowly, the quizzical expression never leaving his face.
“There is, Mr. Smith,” I said.
“Please, call me John. Certainly, you know me well enough by now for us to be on a first-name basis,” he said, smiling.
“I’m not sure I do, John,” I said, waving away the tray of snapper Josie was trying to pass me.
“That sounds rather ominous,” John Smith said, digging into his green salad.
“Not really,” I said. “I’m just curious about when you had your revelation.”
“Revelation?” he said, laughing. “Can I get an amen? Funny, but you don’t strike me as an overly religious woman, Suzy.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty much church-challenged these days,” I said. “But a recent conversation I had has made quite an impact on me. It got me thinking about making amends before it’s too late.”
“Really?” he said, slicing a tomato wedge in half and popping it into his mouth. “And who do you feel you need to make amends with?”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s a bunch of people on my list,” I said, laughing. “But I’m not talking about me. I’m referring to you, John.”
“I see,” he said, putting his knife and fork down and wiping his mouth. Then he sat back in his chair and stared at me. “Who did you have this conversation with?”
“Pastor Tim.”
“Pastor Tim?” he said, frowning. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Probably because he was the person who performed your marriage ceremony,” I said, casually as I reached for my water.
He flinched, then cocked his head at me.
“My marriage ceremony?”
“Yes, on Owen Island.”
“You’ve been busy,” he said, reaching for a chicken thigh. He picked it apart and began eating the pieces one at a time. “As the saying goes, what does the fact that I got married on Owen Island have to do with the price of fish?”
“By itself, not much,” I said, shrugging. “But when you combine it with some of the other things that are going on at the moment, it’s an important piece of the puzzle.”
“So, now you’re trying to solve a puzzle?” he said, glancing over at my mother. “You certainly have raised a most inquisitive daughter.”
My mother gave him a small smile and raised her glass of champagne to me in salute. But she remained silent as she took a sip then set her glass down on the table.
“Please, continue, Suzy,” John Smith said, draping a leg over his knee. “I can’t wait to hear where this is going.”
“I guess my curiosity really started getting the better of me when I read the article your daughter wrote for The People’s Paradise.”
“My daughter?” he said, immediately dropping his leg and sliding his chair closer. He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “How on earth did you know she’s my daughter?”
“Well, it wasn’t easy,” I said, exhaling loudly. “But we eventually put it together. Josie helped a lot.”
“Feel
free to leave me out of it,” Josie said, gently sliding another piece of fish onto her plate.
“We found a picture of her standing next to your ex-wife,” I said. “We recognized her as the same woman we rescued on the beach.”
“I see,” he said, nodding. “Well, I have to say that it’s nice to be able to finally thank all of you for saving her life. I’m eternally grateful.”
“Josie’s Newfie is the one you need to thank,” I said.
“Where are your dogs? I don’t see them anywhere,” John Smith said, glancing around the lawn.
“We left them home tonight.”
“Then we must be headed for a very serious conversation,” he said, chuckling. “I imagine it takes a lot for you to leave your dogs behind.”
“It does,” I said. “And that was another major driving force behind my…inquisitiveness. I just couldn’t accept the fact that your daughter would leave without taking her dog with her. Or at least checking to make sure he was okay before she left.”
“I’m sure she had her reasons,” he said, reaching for another piece of chicken. “Matkazeme rarely does anything without a good reason.”
“Unless she wasn’t able to make her own choice, right?” I said, glancing at him over the top of my water glass.
“I’m not sure if I should be offended by your obtrusiveness or congratulate you,” he said. “But I am impressed. I wouldn’t worry too much about her. I’m sure she’s safe and sound.”
“She is,” I said, nodding. “But at first, I wasn’t sure. And when I spoke to your ex-wife she told me that Matkazeme hadn’t checked in with her for several days. She was quite concerned.”
“You spoke with Madlenka?” he said, giving me a wide-eyed stare.
“I did. She seems like a very nice woman. And incredibly bright.”
“She’s the smartest woman I’ve ever known,” he said, momentarily glancing off into the distance. “What else did she have to say?”
“Just that you were really sick,” I whispered.
“Yes, I am,” he said eventually with a small shrug. “But she shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Why didn’t you say something, John?” my mother said.
