Nowhere Man: A Riley King Mystery

by Richard Neer

  “The downside of livin’ with a cop. Okay, here’s what I need.”

  He told me and I agreed to be his accomplice. I believe there’s no such thing as a perfect crime, but Ginn was out to prove me wrong.

  ~~~~~

  As I approached Dugger’s house, I waved the little white flag I had fashioned from a dowel and an old handkerchief. I was a first down away from the porch when he shouted, “Take one more step and I’ll blow you away, King.”

  “I just want to talk, Paul. And I bring a gift.”

  “Don’t want no more of your questions and no Greeks bearing gifts? Uh uh. Scram.”

  “Give me five minutes and I promise you’ll never hear from me again.”

  He was sitting on his front porch on a sturdy green rocking chair, a twelve gauge double barrel shotgun across his slap. Did he welcome all of his visitors this way? I hadn’t called ahead since his phone and computer had been the victim of some mysterious cyber attack.

  He sneered at me and said, “If it’ll get you outta here faster, come up here and state your piece.”

  “What no lemonade?”

  “You wanna waste your five minutes with stupid quips, go right ahead. State your business.”

  There was another rocker the other side of the entry. “Mind if I set a spell?”

  I was getting into the backwoods vibe.

  “Don’t get comfortable. What do you want?”

  “Actually I came to apologize. It hasn’t been made public yet, but we’ve found Colton Townes.”

  “Do tell. Good for you.”

  “Don’t you want to know what happened to him?”

  “Never could trust the word of that half breed. What bullshit did he lay on you?”

  “He had an accident that caused severe brain trauma. His memory is shot except for a few random things. He doesn’t remember how he crashed the van. Doesn’t even remember owning a van or living in Bluffton. We found him in a convent way north of here. Physically, he’s in good shape but mentally, he’s not all there.”

  “Damn shame. Why should I care?”

  “Well, I think you know I suspected you might’ve had something to do with his disappearance. That doesn’t seem to be the case. In the spirit of the holiday, I came to say I’m sorry for accusing you.”

  “Apology accepted. Now get out.”

  “I brought a peace offering. I don’t know what kind of music you like, but Charlene Jones is doing a benefit concert at USC Beaufort tomorrow night. I’ve got a pair of primo tickets that are yours if you want them.”

  “Is Townes gonna be there?”

  “No. Like I said, he’s not in great shape mentally. He’s not up to travelling.”

  Dugger spit onto the dirt, missing his porch rail by an inch. Looked like he practiced. “Always thought that Charlene Jones was a piece of ass. Wouldn’t mind checking that out myself. She’s got some mileage on her. Maybe you could hook us up.”

  In his dreams. “I might be able to arrange a selfie with the two of you. Keep it on your phone to show your friends.”

  A deep disgusting snort, followed by another spit.

  “That doesn’t sound good. Maybe you should have that checked out,” I said, hoping my false concern played.

  “Phone’s on the blink. But maybe I could cop a feel when the picture’s taken. Pull a Biden.”

  “I think you’re thinking of Al Franken.”

  “One of them socialist bastards, not sure which one. Nah, I keep my hands to myself, unless the lady welcomes it. I’ll take you up on that offer. Got ‘em on ya?”

  “I was thinking I’d email them to you.”

  “Computer’s down. All my technical shit ain’t been working since I got up yesterday.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Jeez, I remember you said you were writing that book about the Civil War. Was that on your computer?”

  “Damn straight. Lucky I got landline that still works. I called a geek friend of mine and he thinks he can find the book somewhere on the hard drive. Shit, I back it up every day but whatever virus hit it, it got the backup drive too. Fuckin’ trolls. Probably some kid in his parents’ basement, living off the government tit.”

  “That’s a shame. Well, I do have a pair of tickets with me. Not as good as the ones I was going to send you.”

  “I’ll take what you got. Must say King, I had you figured wrong. Takes a big man to admit a mistake and offer reparation. Hate that word but couldn’t come up with another, top of my head.”

  “Hey, I’ve worked with law enforcement my whole life. Hate to see a fellow cop wronged, especially if I’m the cause of it. Job’s tough enough.”

  “Got that right. Hey, wanna little duck snort of my moonshine? It’s early but what the hell?”

  “Tempting, but I’ve got a lot of stops to make. Good luck with that laptop. How soon will you know if it can be saved?”

  “I’m bringing it in after Christmas. Guy works full time but has next week off so he’ll have time to look at it. I put a lot of years into that book and I hate to think I need to start all over. But if I have to, I will. Now that the Proud Boys, the Oath Takers and Three Per Centers got power, I can update it some, maybe even take it into the future where we don’t have to apologize if we don’t want to rent to fags or move aside for coons and spics to take our jobs. There’s a wave of truth a-coming, and I aim to ride it to glory.”

  If I ever had doubts about Moses’ mission, that swung the pendulum his way. But I didn’t let Dugger see my disgust. “Well, good luck. I’ll look for you at the show. See if Charlene’ll be in the mood to take pictures afterwards.”

  “Yeah, them stuck up Hollywood bitches can be cranky, especially if it’s that time of the month. Though I guess at her age, that ain’t a problem.”

  “I suppose not. But Charlene’s from down South. Not a drop of Hollywood in her.”

  “I don’t know ‘bout that. That movie she had a little love scene in, looked like that feller was putting more than a drop in, if you take my meaning.”

  He found that hilarious and laughed raucously. I took it as my cue to leave.

  He said, “Hey, you never told me exactly where and how you found Townes.”

  I was already off the porch on the way to my car. “You’re right, I didn’t. See you tomorrow.”

  41

  I hadn’t seen Charlene perform with her full band in years. I had seen her at a protest rally and once at a wedding in the last months, just her and a guitar. Her music has a lot of range, but doing solo work, she had stayed with ballads. And at those events, she was dressed down, just jeans and a tee shirt.

  Tonight was different. Decked out in full regalia, I found myself wondering if this was the same woman I’d spent all that time in a car with. With Charlene, I’d seen all there was to see, but somehow this barely clothed version was even sexier. When she came onto the stage, backlit, the crowd was treated to a glorious vision.

  And her band kicked ass. When ambling through Jason’s songs as the opening act, they played competently. But working with Charlene, the guitar solos sizzled, drum fills crackled and the rhythm section was solid as Fleetwood Mac’s.

  She could rock with the best of them and her moves onstage were erotica unleashed. When she slid into a kneeling position in front of her lead guitarist during his solo, every male in the audience refilled his Viagra prescription.

  Halfway through the set, she hushed the crowd and explained why she was doing this show. Originally, it was to help Colton Townes’ widow get back on her feet, but she had wonderful news. Townes was alive and still writing songs.

  She said, “He’s not able to travel so he couldn’t be here tonight, but he’ll watching on a streaming feed. And I don’t know if you know it, but The Flying Machine’s first album was all songs Colton had a hand in writing, including their big hit Dream About Tomorrow.”

  That got an ovation from the crowd, testimony to how popular the song was.

  “Yeah, I love that song, too. Hey no
w, I’ve got a special surprise for y’all. I’m fixin’ to do that song tonight, but I’m gonna need some help. So if you don’t mind, I’ve asked a friend to join me. Would you welcome please, from The Flying Machine, Mr. Trig Dawson!”

  Bedlam ensued, whoops and rebel yells, along with high pitched screeching from the young ones. Trig didn’t look much different than the bumpkin who we almost dined with a few nights ago --- torn jeans, white tee shirt, high heeled cowboy boots and a wide brimmed Stetson.

  I can’t tell Garth Brooks from Blake Shelton even though male country stars are on television all the time. The hat is why. They all look alike ten feet out. The women are another matter.

  Trig gave the mandatory, “How y’all doing tonight?” and launched into the song. He and Charlene traded verses, their voices blending beautifully. The pretense we had tricked him with, a duet album, was actually a model that worked.

  He stayed onstage through the encores, strumming his guitar and adding a few well placed yips. The patrons got their money’s worth.

  ~~~~~~

  McCarver had booked Bottoms Up for the reception after the show. Kat volunteered the Frog, but it was too far away, and risked losing half the invitees who didn’t want to drive that distance at night.

  Katrina McCann was resplendent in a sleeveless red cocktail dress with a plunging neckline, a lot of leg showing courtesy of a slit skirt. “Jason’s a lucky man,” I said when we exchanged air kisses.

  “I keep reminding him of that.”

  “Who’s minding the store?”

  “Sarah. She sends her regards. I wanted to close for the night, but we had lots of reservations and she said it wouldn’t be right to disappoint the regulars this close to the holidays. She may make it down later, if the party goes on late.”

  “So, all things considered, everything worked out pretty well.”

  “Oh, I guess you haven’t heard. Did you see Charlene before the show?”

  “No, she was swamped so I sent word I’d see her here. Why?”

  “She flew in a doctor to see Colton. He wanted to do more tests in a hospital setting when Colton’s able to travel, but he said his initial sense was that he’ll never be a whole lot better. Maybe in familiar surroundings and with a lot of TLC, he’ll be a bit more responsive, but Carla’s going to have to treat this like they’re strangers who just met.”

  “Well, Sinatra sang that love is lovelier, the second time around. I don’t think he meant it like this, but at least they can be together.”

  “She’s going live with the nuns for a while. Maybe she’ll buy a small house up there and he’ll move in if he can be comfortable leaving the convent.”

  “Where’s Jason?”

  “He’s here, working the crowd. I thought he was terrific, but your girl is something else.”

  “She’s not my girl, but she was great. Charlene and I are just friends now.”

  “It’s good you can still be friends. Not all couples who break up can be.” She sighed. “Jason and I, well, we’ve had had our share of ups and downs. More downs than ups lately.”

  I found it strange that she would bring that up now. She and Black seemed to have an ideal setup, but I’ve learned not to judge people’s innermost feelings based on what they choose to show to the world. I’d always been attracted to Kat, but I’ve never seriously considered pursuing matters. Jason is a friend, and that squelches any possibilities.

  She must have sensed my unease and changed the subject. “Hey, I didn’t see Moses tonight at the concert. Not his bag?”

  “He’ll be along. I think he was there but he likes to stand in the back so he can sneak out if he’s bored. He was hoping Darius Rucker would show.”

  “Jason and I have reserved that table back in the corner. Join us when Charlene gets here. Oh, there’s Moses now. Say hey.”

  The ‘Say Hey’ kid had just come in. No Tomey.

  I said, “Over here, big man.”

  He gave us a quick smile. More like a grimace. “Yo, Katrina. 5-0.”

  They hugged and then Kat begged off to circulate amongst the party-goers. Her perfume lingered. I fantasized that she was coming on to me earlier before I beamed back to planet Earth to focus on Ginn.

  I asked him, “Mission accomplished?”

  “Did the deed.”

  “God, you smell like booze. You didn’t lose your nerve halfway there and need fortifying, did you?”

  “Nothing like that.”

  “Okay. You’re a man a fewer words than normal. Kat invited us to their table. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Macallan. Or if they don’t have it, I’ll take whatever swill you’re drinking that pretends to be single malt.”

  Black was holding court with some old underground radio jocks. I wasn’t sure he was going to make it here intact. He ran into George Arliss backstage after the show and angry words were spoken. Luckily, I was able to diffuse the situation by reminding Jason how helpful Arliss had been at finding Colton. In the Christmas spirit, they shook hands and resolved to meet for drinks one day to talk music. The fact that they both had hit the rum-laced eggnog pretty hard helped.

  All was calm and all was bright, except for Ginn, who was sitting alone at Jason’s table. Something was wrong. I wondered if Tomey’s absence had anything to do with it.

  I fetched our drinks. McCarver had gone top shelf and ordered Macallan. I figured I’d get more out of Ginn after he set his glass down.

  Charlene arrived to the applause of her well wishers. It would take her a full ten minutes to reach our table, so Ginn and I had time to talk. He downed the scotch in one gulp, out of character for him.

  “Hey, aren’t you supposed to savor that?” I said.

  “I’ll savor the next one.”

  The noise level was rising as the party heated up. It was balmy and humid outside, nothing like Christmastime in New Jersey. It felt more like a rainy night in April.

  I said, “Where’s Tomey?”

  “She split for her folks’ house. I told you she was planning that.”

  “Christmas isn’t until day after tomorrow. I thought you two would be celebrating at my place.”

  “Since we weren’t making the concert, she didn’t see the point of hanging around.”

  “Does it have anything to do with what you did tonight?”

  “Didn’t take your FBI training to figure that out, did it 5-0? She didn’t say a whole lot except we’d have to have a talk when she got back. Think it might be a long one after what happened. She was hoping I’d change my mind, but when she finds out, well.”

  “You kept a racist diatribe from getting published. You did what you did and I was a part of it. I told you it was an overreaction because the manuscript probably wouldn’t see the light of day anyway. And even if it did, nobody would read it.”

  “I wasn’t gonna take that chance. Okay, all I’ll say is Alex isn’t happy about that move. Let’s just leave it there, man. I need another Macallan.”

  Before I could respond, Katrina mercifully glided back and snuggled in next to Moses. “What a night. So what are you guys doing for Christmas? We got so wound up in all this with Colton I never asked.”

  I said, “I’m visiting a friend up in the North Carolina mountains. Leaving in the morning. Kind of a tradition the last few years.”

  “How ‘bout you, Moses? Going with him?”

  “No plans.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Not even for Christmas dinner?”

  “Nope. ’Fraid not, ma’am.”

  “Then you’ll have it with us. It’s just Jason and me and a couple of friends, guys he worked with up in Charleston. Paco and Julius are their names. You’ll like them. They’re good people and Julius almost made the NFL. He’s a lawyer now working with the Innocence Project.”

  “Only if you have tiramisu.”

  “How could we not?” The evening star finally made it to the table. Kat was in a hugging mood and crushed Charlene against her. “Charlene Jones! Yo
u were great, ‘though you must get tired of hearing that.”

  “Never do, sweetums. Your man was outstanding, too. And how about Trig turning up and asking if he could sing with me? He couldn’t make the party, but he said everything is cool with our deal. Paperwork’ll get signed after the holidays. Kat, did you tell Riley what the doctor said?”

  Kat said, “I did. But I bet when they do more tests, they’ll come up with something. They don’t want to raise false hopes, but I think they do that on purpose so they look like geniuses when they fix things they originally said were unfixable.”

  “Could be. Nice to see you, Moses.”

  “Evenin’.” Ginn liked Charlene, despite his warnings about me getting back with her. Nice place to visit, not a place to live was his outlook.

  I said, “Big Mo has the holiday blues, I think.”

  She pounded her chest like James Earl Jones did in The Great White Hope after he won the Heavyweight Belt. “Not tonight. Let us have lively times. Let’s celebrate. Champagne all around.”

  Everyone but Ginn laughed.

  Charlene was floating on a sea of idolatry. She was whisked away from our table and barely noticed me again until I started to leave a few minutes later.

  She caught my sleeve as I was walking out. “My place for a nightcap,” she whispered.

  “Got to get an early start tomorrow. But Charlene, I’m right proud of you, lass. You did a real good thing tonight. Actually, you’ve been a champ the last weeks. I may need to reconsider some things.”

  “That’d be the best gift you could give me, sugar. Hey, by the way, some guy came backstage after the show. Said you sent him. Just kinda stammered when I said howdy and then he slinked away. Weird dude.”

  “Name wasn’t Paul Dugger, was it?”

  “Yeah, that was it. What’s up with him?”

  “Tell you when I get back after Christmas. It’s a long story.”

  42