“You missed the three-hundred and sixteen million deadline…no winner….rolled over to three-hundred and eighty million and growing…your five dollars back…didn’t feel right about keeping…my father was a police officer too…lost his life in the line of duty…please accept this lottery ticket for next drawing…I entered your numbers for you….ticket is enclosed…hope you win…Good luck. Yours truly…”
Marv looked mildly surprised and a little touched by the letter, but he disposed of it in the wastebasket. Then he took the five-dollar bill and put it on top of the lottery ticket. He noticed something on the right side of his desk, peeking out from the side-bolster of his blotter. He pulled out the folded piece of paper and saw two men in front of the maroon limo. One of them held a silver colored metal suitcase. He looked very closely, as if searching for something. He puckered his lips as he rummaged through the filing cabinet in his brain. He scratched his head. Then he folded the paper and put the picture under the lottery ticket and stuck the paper sandwich under the side-bolster where the picture had been. Only the light green edge of the five-dollar bill stuck out.
Forty-Four
The hand pushed the twenty-dollar bill across the worn-out wooden counter and two tourists walked through the open door that said INDIAN VILLAGE THIS WAY. There were more tourists behind them in the Gift Shop. Eager on-lookers were already gathering at the side of animal enclosures anticipating the alligator wrestling show.
Away from the mainstream of activity, Chance was handing armfuls of palm fronds up to a man on the skeletal roof structure of a new chickee hut. The man was placing the fronds like shingles that would shed rain. The young man on the ribbed roof said, “You make my work easy. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem,” Chance said, “I have to earn my keep somehow.”
“Good morning, Chance.” It was Kim, the pretty Indian girl who was smitten with the fugitive before her.
“It is a good morning, isn’t it, Kim?”
“Well, yes. And no. Can we talk for a while?” Her eyes flashed to the man on the roof. He quickly looked away, acting busy.
“Sure. Where’s good?”
“How about Fourth Pond. It’s quiet there.” They walked side-by-side, never touching, away from the noisy tourist-concentrated part of the village.
Their words were soft in the peacefulness at the edge of the wild Glades. There was no need for a fence here at the very back edge of the village. It was one of the most scenic spots within the Village. Big pond, big sky, big Glades.
“You’re looking good,” she said. “Apparently our food agrees with you.”
“It’s not just the food. It’s…” he searched for the right words, “…it’s everything.”
“It’s not much, but it’s ours.”
“Not much? Compared to what I got used to out there, this is definitely Heaven.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been here for almost a week,” Kim said.
“I know. It feels like I just got here.”
“You’ve been such a big help cleaning up after the visitors leave, feeding the animals, helping to finish the new chickee.”
“Gotta pay for my room and board somehow.”
“Chance, there’s something I need to…”
A masculine voice intruded. “I’m sorry to cut in.” It was Jay. He was pleasant, but oddly business-like. “It’s important that I deliver this message direct, Chance, to make sure there is no misunderstanding.” Chance’s eyes moved to Kim for an instant, then locked on Jay.
“Chance, we have no quarrel with you. We believe a man is measured by things the white man will never understand. And we don’t expect them to. The things you say, the way you act, the way your spirit cannot be taken from you, makes us believe in you.” Chance blinked, not knowing if there was more to be said.
“But we have concerns about what could happen here if we are accused of harboring, hiding, helping. You understand,” Jay said in an almost fatherly way.
“You’ll have to leave, Chance. Tomorrow. We will all bid you farewell then.”
Message delivered, Jay simply turned and walked the way he had come. Chance turned to Kim.
She said “I wanted to tell you first, but I took too long getting the words out. I’m so sorry.” Chance looked at the ground for a word here or a word there. He couldn’t help but feel as though this was another blow. No, he thought, another challenge. Yet another freakin’ challenge. He dug deep for some courage.
“Hey, it’s OK. This was an unexpected pleasure. In more ways than one. It gave me a chance to catch my breath. Maybe it saved my life, who knows. I feel blessed. And it’s time to move on. Jay’s right. I’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Well, at least we have tonight.”
Forty-Five
“I don’t want to call him, you call him.” It was Craig Mulholland talking to, yelling at, Armando Diaz.
“McGuire told you to call DiSantis, not me.”
“I’m not calling that prick. You call!”
“It’s your phone sittin’ right there, pick it up and just call. Get it over with.”
Mulholland just sat there sulking.
“Look,” Diaz continued, “make it short and sweet, just tell him that Mr. Bigfoot just broke into a house out in the boonies, stole some food and got away.”
Muholland picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card in front of him.
A husky woman’s voice answered, sounding more like a man’s.
“Lieutenant DiSantis’ office.”
“Ah, yes, is Lieutenant DiSantis there?”
“No, he isn’t. Would you like to leave a message?” Mildred’s voice was that of a woman who smoked three packs of cigarettes a day for two hundred years.
"It’s really important that we reach him. This is Detective Armando Diaz,” Mulholland said, “from the Miami P.D.”
“I’m sorry, Detective, he left yesterday and said something about a short vacation.” There was a pause, as Mulholland’s eyebrows went up.
“Do you have any information at all as to where he went?”
Mildred looked exasperated. “Just a minute, I’ll look on his desk. Maybe I can find something.” Mildred put the phone on hold and went to DiSantis’ desk. She scanned a dozen slips of paper. She put her half-glasses on her nose, pushed the line button and picked up the phone. “I don’t think this will help much.”
“I’ll take anything you’ve got.”
“It says Schnitzel’s Deli, Second Street.”
“Ah, no, I don’t think so.”
“How about this one?” she strained her eyes, “Indian Village, sixty-eight miles.”
“That’s all?”
“I told you it wasn’t much. Why don’t you just call his cell phone? Got a piece of paper? I’ll give you the number.”
• • •
The view out of the windshield of the moving car was the old two-lane section of the Tamiami Trail. The canal paralleled the road from one end of the Everglades to the other. Anhingas spread their wings in trees to dry their feathers after diving for fish. The sky was impossibly blue with clumps of pure white scattered clouds. Alligators sunned themselves on the muddy banks. And airboats, here and there, carried paying tourists on half-hour Glades adventures.
Detective Tony DiSantis looked the part of a tourist today as he drove the light blue rental car west. He wore a shirt with the word FLORIDA written this way and that all over it, each word in a different color. His briefcase was on the seat next to him. He took a pair of sunglasses from his breast pocket, ripped the price tag off, and put them on.
The cell phone rang. He looked at it as if it were not supposed to do that. It rang again. He picked it up and read the number of the caller. Then he pushed another button and tossed the phone on the passenger seat with a look of disgust. “I don’t need those two assholes anymore.”
Craig Mulholland hung up the phone on his desk.
“Didn’t pick up.”
“P
robably out of range,” Diaz said.
“Probably, or just didn’t want to talk to us.”
“Whatever.”
“Let’s go.”
“Where we goin’?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll figure it out on the way.”
• • •
Dappled sunlight was dancing on the floor of the chickee hut. Chance still lay curled up in the fetal position in a woven hammock. Soon a hand was touching Chance’s shoulder, gently arousing him from his slumber. Chance turned with a sleepy smile, envisioning Kim beckoning him. But it wasn’t Kim. It was Addie Mae, the XL sized native cook who had fixed Chance his meal after his sweat lodge purification. Chance opened his eyes as his internal motor slowly picked-up speed.
“Wake up, sleepy head. It’s already late. What were you doing last night that you can’t get up this morning?”
Chance attempted a smile. “I, ah, I, ah…what time is it anyway?”
“Like I told you. Late! Now you better get yourself together. I have a special breakfast for you before you go.”
Chance yawned the words “Oh, thank you Addie Mae, that’s exactly what I need. I’m starving.”
• • •
Marv Klempner’s empty office chair was pulled away from his desk at an angle. The large double-hung sash window behind Marv’s desk was all the way up. It was a warm, pleasant day. Even the pigeon walking on the ledge outside the window thought so.
A breeze came through the open window and blew a couple of notes from Marv’s desk onto the floor. Marv, just back to his desk with a fresh cup of coffee, closed the window nearly all the way.
When Marv sat down at his desk, he noticed something sticking out from the side-bolster of the desk blotter. It was a five-dollar bill. And a lottery ticket. And a photo. He splayed them out on his desk.
Marv thought for a few seconds. He took the five-dollar bill and the lottery ticket and put them in his wallet. He eyed the photo on his desk. He picked it up and held it with both hands, his fingers pinching the lower corners. He held it in front of his eyes for at least thirty seconds. He closed his eyes for another ten seconds. He closed them tighter for another five seconds. His lips moved without speaking.
In a flash, he opened his eyes wide!
He drew in a breath. “Now I remember,” he whispered. His hand darted for his phone. He punched the number.
• • •
Tony DiSantis was still driving west on the Tamiami Trail, now following a recreational vehicle with bicycles on the back.
Once again, his cell phone rang. As before, he picked it up, pressed a button and he could see the phone number of the caller. He put the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Marv.”
“Hey, Tony, how ya doin’?”
“I’m fine. But, how are you?”
“OK, great, I’m good.”
“So what’s up, Marv?”
Marv picked up the picture again and held it before him. He didn’t say anything.
“Marv? Are you there, Marv?”
Klempner was looking at the picture as if the people in the photo had disappeared. His forehead was wrinkled. “Marv?” DiSantis looked at his phone to see if he had lost the signal.
“Marv?”
“Yeah, Tony. I’m here.”
“Well, so what is it, Marv?”
“I, ah, just called to see if you needed anything, that’s all.” Marv had his eyes closed, but he still held the picture in front of him.
“Oh,” Tony said in slight surprise, “No, Marv, I’m fine. But thanks.”
“OK, Tony.” Marv said, deflated.
“Take care of yourself, Marv.”
DiSantis hung up and put the phone down.
• • •
The large wooden bowl was just below Chance’s chin. He was shoveling Addie Mae’s special Indian breakfast into his mouth as if it were his last meal. His eyes were as big as the forkfuls.
“And when you finish that…” Addie Mae was almost singing the words “…we have a lot more where that came from. She ladled another heaping spoonful into the bowl right under Chance’s nose. Chance just kept shoveling.
• • •
The gravel parking lot of the Indian Village already had a few cars parking, brake lights coming on and people getting out.
A light blue car pulled in slowly, looking for a good spot and parked at the extreme edge of the lot, close to the exit. DiSantis took his time. He studied the lot, the road, the building and the surroundings as he got out of the car.
People were walking up to the gift shop while DiSantis walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. A few minutes later DiSantis closed the trunk, and in front of him was a medical walker, the kind convalescing patients use to get themselves around. The walker had a small basket at the front of it, where DiSantis placed a small box of tissues. The walker also had a canvas-carrying pouch attached to the front. A fairly large, long pouch.
Before DiSantis started his aided walk from the car, his cell phone rang again. He picked up the phone. He eyed the caller number again.
“Yes, Marv?” DiSantis said, almost annoyed. DiSantis listened hard to incomplete, broken sentences.
“I couldn’t…I remember now, I…it came back to me when…it’s not…i…ee……per….ta….ni….” BEEEEP. The phone went dead. The signal was lost.
DiSantis shut the power off and tossed it on the seat of the car. He closed the door and started his walk.
• • •
Marv Klempner sat with his elbows on his desk, fingertips pressing against his forehead. He sensed someone watching him. Mildred, looking down at him, raised both her eyebrows as if to say, And what’s wrong today, Marv?
“I ah, I’m trying to get a hold of Tony, but I lost the signal. I don’t even know where he is.”
“Try Miami.”
“Miami? What makes you think he’s in Miami?”
“After thirty-one years of working around detectives, I’ve learned a thing or two.”
“Miami. Thanks, but that doesn’t help me much.”
“Try a detective. . .” Mildred thought for a second, “… Diaz at Dade County PD. He just called looking for Tony. Maybe he knows where Tony is.”
“Diaz. Can’t be too many Detective Diaz’s at the PD down there I wouldn’t think.” Klempner said.
“Yeah. Only about 800 of ‘em.”
• • •
The nondescript sedan was moving at a good clip headed west on the Tamiami Trail. It breezed past a sign on the right side of the road, next to the canal bordered by overgrown weeds and a tangle of bushes. The sign said AUTHENTIC INDIAN VILLAGE 30 MILES AHEAD. Mulholland was at the wheel, Diaz next to him.
The cell phone rang and Diaz answered. “Detective Diaz.”
There was a pause. Diaz was listening.
“Yes, Detective Klempner,” Diaz said, “I, ah…” Diaz looked at Mulholland with an irritated glance… “I did call for Detective DiSantis this morning.” Another pause. “Yes, that was me. How can I help you?”
There was a long silence from Diaz, but his eyes darted to Mulholland and then at the road in front of him. His ear pressed harder into the small phone.
In Chicago, Marv Klempner held up a picture.
In the car Diaz looked at Mulholland as he said “Thank you Detective Klempner. We’ll get the message to Tony.” He put the phone down and said,
“Step on it.”
“Why? What are we doing?”
“Saving an innocent man.”
• • •
On this beautiful, peaceful morning, the tribe had gathered to bid farewell to Chance. Jay was dressed much the same as he was when Chance first met him. His colorful shirt was even more colorful now, it seemed. Beside Jay was the old medicine man. He was dressed exactly as he was when Chance first met him. And he seemed to be saying the same unintelligible Indian words, in prayer-like tones.
“Chance, our tribe would not feel right if we sent you off without somet
hing to ward off the evil spirits out there. So we would like you to have this.” Jay presented Chance with a beautiful leather backpack.
“It is filled with food, maps and…medicine.” Jay motioned to the old medicine man whose prayers rose a little louder.
“It is from all of us here at the village,” Jay said.
Chance was touched by the gift. “I don’t think I know how to say the words that express what I feel inside.”
“You just have. And one more thing…”
As these gifts and good-byes were taking place outside the dining chickee, tourists were filtering into the village. All shapes and sizes and kinds of tourists. Including one with a bright colored shirt. And a walker.
Kim stepped toward Chance. She looked like an Indian angel as she looked up to him. “Chance, our time was too short, but long enough for me to know that I’d like you to have this.” It was a necklace of small black and green stones and bright metal. Chance bent his head and Kim put it around his neck. “It was mine. Now it’s yours.” Kim’s eyes filled a little. Chance was speechless. “I…I…I guess it’s time for me to go.” They all nodded. The old medicine man stopped his prayers and just watched. Chance swung his backpack over one shoulder, raised his hand in goodbye and started to walk along the side of First Pond. “I’ll just see you to the edge of the village,” Kim said. She walked with Chance.
A large group of tourists had gathered in front of the alligator-wrestling pen. There was a lot of chatter in the group. As the show was just beginning, one of the group, the man with the walker, appeared to be looking for a long lost friend. He strained and craned his neck this way and that, eyes hunting everywhere.
Kim and Chance were now walking on the opposite side of the attraction which was now taking place in the wrestling pen. Chance looked, for the last time, at the Indian man about to grab the five-foot alligator in the pen. All eyes were on the same Indian. All eyes except those of someone in the back of the throng of captivated tourists. One man couldn’t take his eyes off Chance.
Saving an Innocent Man Page 30