Memphis Legend

by Brian Crawford

  Steve was grinning widely. “Well, you still got it, maestro. You schmoozed the girl; then you managed to weasel your way out of another jam. How do you do it? Do you ever get tired of being you?”

  Kate was not as amused. She stared at Steve. “Damn it, Steve. I told you not to egg him on. If L.T. had not been here, things might have gone very poorly. We are kind of in the sticks, in case you haven’t noticed. They might not appreciate a city slicker coming in here and hitting on their women. Sorry, Ellie, I know you grew up here.”

  “No problem, Kate. Besides, you are kind of right; they can be almost clannish around here at times.”

  Paul was grinning almost as wide as Steve. “Girls, just calm down. I had it all under control. I haven’t been in a fight with a jealous boyfriend since the eighth grade. No one can resist my irresistible charm.” He sat down like he hadn’t a care in the world. “The darn guy was as big as a house, though, wasn’t he? Oh, and L.T., what were you getting ready to do there?”

  “Intervene, if necessary. I don’t know what you said, but thanks for saving me the trouble. What did you say to him?”

  “Nothing much. I just told him that I was waiting to meet the man that she turned me down for.”

  Ellie asked, “And that worked?”

  “It is all in the delivery.”

  Virgil and Ellie spoke simultaneously, “That sounds like something L.T. would say.”

  I smiled. It was something I would say, and it was true. I had to admit it; Paul was smooth. I knew that Paul’s father, John Deland, was disappointed with Paul for dropping out of college and being too loose with his lifestyle, too carefree. John compared him to Beth, who had her own successful business, and I realized I had allowed John’s comments to taint my image of Paul; however, I was willing to admit I might have misjudged him. From what I had learned about him today, he was a good guy. He was funny, charming, witty, clever, resourceful, and had an ability to read people. Paul knew that I was withholding information on why I did not drink, yet he also could read me well enough to know he should not push the situation. And maybe he did not need my help with Eric, the jealous boyfriend. He was going to make one hell of a car salesman.

  I said, “Well, Paul’s a smart guy. Anyone can see that.”

  ***

  The group was discussing visiting Beale Street again when Paul looked at his watch and quickly stood up. He looked deep in thought, worried perhaps, yet he managed a smile as he excused himself from the table telling us he needed to make a call and he would be right back. As Paul walked off, I stole a glance at Eric and his girlfriend, Jackie. All was not well in paradise. Jackie’s body language was becoming increasingly more animated. It was very clear she was not happy with Eric. In turn, he looked like he was taking his lumps without argument. I turned my attention back to the group just in time to hear Virgil asking about Bill Clinton, the presidential candidate who was the current governor of Arkansas. I could not understand how the conversation turned from Beale Street to politics, and I was looking for a chance to interrupt when Eric approached the table. He looked completely demoralized.

  “Excuse me,” he said, “I don’t see that Paul guy. When he comes back will you tell him I’m sorry? I’m the jealous type, and I let it get the better of me tonight. No hard feelings, I hope.”

  I looked hard at Eric. He seemed sincere. I spoke for the entire group. “None here. We will tell him you stopped by.”

  “Thanks. Well, I gotta be going. G’night, y’all.”

  He abruptly turned and left. Alone. Jackie remained seated at the table, absently watching one of the televisions turned to ESPN. It was showing tennis highlights, but they could have announced World War III on the TV, and she probably would not have noticed. She appeared to have won the argument, yet she did not look happy about it.

  The conversation turned back to Bill Clinton and the current presidential race. The discussion was lively but uninteresting to me. Who wanted to talk about a bunch of dumb politicians when Beale Street was calling?

  I noticed Jackie leaving the bar a few minutes after Eric. Her gaze was set low, and she looked dispirited. She avoided eye contact with anyone in the bar. Less than thirty seconds later, Paul was off the phone. He held up his car keys and mouthed the words “I will be right back” to me and walked out the front door.

  The bill had been paid and we were waiting for Paul, who had been gone for nearly five minutes, to return. The others were still talking politics while I successfully avoided the conversation. Eventually, Kate wondered what was taking Paul so long. I explained what I had seen and the words he had mouthed. Steve volunteered to go out and see what was taking him so long.

  As Steve headed for the door, Virgil resumed talking, this time asking me directly. “L.T., what do you think of this Bill Clinton guy?”

  “You know I don’t follow politics much, but in this case, since he’s our neighboring governor, I do know more about him than I would normally. He seems like a smooth character. The pundits say he has a good chance of winning, which just seems so weird to me.”

  Virgil said, “Why is that weird?”

  “Didn’t Bush have over a 90 percent approval rating after Desert Storm? How do you lose an election after something like that?”

  Lisa said, “Actually it was 89 percent, the highest ever recorded by Gallup, but he might lose because of Perot. I don’t think Clinton would have a chance if Perot dropped out, but Perot seems in for the long haul.”

  I said, “There you go, ask the news producer. I am a political neophyte. Why do you ask? We never talk politics.”

  “Just curious. I read he dodged the draft to get out of Vietnam. Don’t you think that will cost him too many votes?”

  I replied, “Vietnam was a stupid war. It’s been nearly twenty years since it ended and a lot of people still hate that war, and who can blame them. So, no, I do not think it will hurt him that much, except with people that aren’t going to vote for him regardless.”

  Lisa asked, “But you’re a veteran, doesn’t that bother you?”

  “No, and yes,” I said. They were looking at me to explain my strange answer. “No, it doesn’t completely bother me if he dodged the draft. Like I said, it was a stupid war, and if he thought so too, and didn’t want to go, then so be it. Be a conscientious objector if you like. A lot of people saw it that way; it’s why President Carter gave them all amnesty. But also, yes, because there is no way that a man that dodged the draft should ever be our Commander-in-Chief. You can’t have it both ways. In my opinion, anyway.”

  Lisa said, “How could you call what he did being a conscientious objector?”

  “Hey, why must someone have to be Amish, or Mennonite, or some other religious sect to conscientiously object? I can’t tell you guys a lot of the stuff I did in the Navy other than I was in Military Intelligence. By default, that means I got inside access to some of the plans and strategies of Southeast Asia in the early Eighties. Let me just say that I was not always in agreement with how our government did things. I wanted to object to some of their decisions, but I took an oath, so my personal feelings had to take a back seat. Remember, Carter did not grant amnesty to deserters.”

  Lisa said, “If you agree with amnesty for draft dodgers, then I guess your power of forgiveness is better than mine. Can you elaborate at all on some of the plans you didn’t like?”

  “Not really, but look at what you do know from public history. We bombed the crap out of Cambodia during the Vietnam War. Then we sent troops into Cambodia, only to pull them back after public outrage, specifically after the Kent State Massacre. Many experts speculate our involvement helped cause the formation of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, leading to massive genocide. Whether it did or not, I cannot say. But later, when Vietnam invaded Cambodia, we propped up the Khmer Rouge because we hated the Vietnamese. Think about that for a second. We backed a known evil, a regime responsible for the genocide of millions because we were ticked off that we didn’t stop the spread of co
mmunism in Vietnam. I love our military, but the politics of the Vietnam War and the ten-plus years following that war have soured many Americans, honestly, myself included. My point, I don’t think a lot of people care if he dodged the draft; if he even did.”

  Lisa smiled and called me a maverick again. Virgil said, “And you say you don’t follow politics.”

  “I don’t. I just lived it for a few years. All in all, I sometimes wish I had just stayed enlisted with you Virgil; ignorance really can be bliss sometimes.”

  Suddenly Steve came running into the bar. He was out of breath. He looked frantic.

  “The son of a bitch is gone!”

  ***

  Steve was frantic. His eyes looked like they were glued wide open and he was out of breath. He ran up to the table repeating his previous statement, verbatim. Kate was the first to respond, asking him what he meant by his statement.

  “I mean he is gone. His car is gone. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t leave a note. Gone.”

  Kate said, “He can’t just up and disappear. He had to go somewhere.”

  “Yeah, probably over at that blonde chick’s place.”

  Kate said, “Come on, Steve. I know Paul is not always the most responsible guy in the world, but he wouldn’t chase a girl and leave his friends in the lurch. He would more likely throw us the keys and tell us to take his car, and then hitch a ride with the girl in the morning. Maybe he just went to get some gas or something.”

  “At first, I thought the same thing, until I found this near where his car was parked.” Steve was holding a wallet. “It’s Paul’s. If he was getting gas, he would have come back already.”

  Kate and Steve were on the verge of arguing about the wallet when Virgil interrupted. “You are overlooking a strong possibility. Maybe he already filled up with gas before he discovered his wallet is missing and now he is stuck at the gas station trying to explain to the attendant what happened, and it is not like he can just call us.”

  I had been quiet up until that point, contemplating the different options, wondering about the coincidences in front of me. One thing was for sure; I was not buying Steve’s explanation. “Jackie. That was the woman’s name…”

  “Who gives a shit about her name,” interrupted Steve.

  “Let me finish, Steve. I was going to say that I was watching her before she left and it seemed pretty obvious to me that she was upset with her boyfriend and didn’t seem to be in the mood for heating things up with Paul. Plus, Paul seems astute enough to know he had no chance with her. I feel really confident about that fact.”

  They were all looking at me. Lisa was nodding in agreement.

  “Virgil, since you had the gas station idea, why don’t you head down to the nearest gas station and look for Paul. Get the number of that pay phone over there so you can call us if you need to. Take Ellie with you since she grew up here and she’ll know all the closest gas stations. Kate, I want you by the phone.”

  Steve asked, “What about me?”

  “I need you to show me where you found that wallet.”

  Virgil left with Ellie and Lisa while Steve walked outside with me and showed me exactly where he found the wallet. I quickly scanned the area surrounding the missing car. Nothing appeared abnormal. I did find a smashed Marlboro cigarette near Paul’s parking space that had been recently smoked a little past the half-way point. Hardly abnormal outside a bar. Apparently, the wallet was my only clue.

  I asked to see the wallet. Steve handed it over after telling me he had already checked it and found nothing missing. I examined the wallet in the dim light and then moved under a street light to examine it closer. It contained the usual items. A driver’s license, a VISA card, some of Paul’s business cards from the auto dealership, and $22 in cash. The wallet and items inside were creased in the middle like someone had tried to fold the wallet in half, and there were strange imprints on the outside of the wallet. Things were getting interesting.

  “Steve,” I said, “I’m going to need John Deland’s home phone number. Can you get it for me? I know his office number, but his home number is unlisted, and I don’t remember it.”

  “I can get it. Why?”

  “We need to call Paul’s family, don’t you think?”

  “Why? He’s a grown man who left to try and close the deal with that blonde chick. I want to kick his butt, figuratively, but I don’t think his daddy needs to be called.”

  “I highly doubt he left to try and close any deal with her. Furthermore, the circumstances of the scene here provide reasonable suspicion that his disappearance needs further investigation. Therefore, his father needs to be called. Now go get that number!”

  Steve’s eyes widened when I ordered him to get the number. He stood still for a second. Maybe it should not have bothered me so much, but the way he said “chick” was like fingers down a chalkboard. I wanted John’s home phone number, but I also wanted Steve to go away. While increasing the scrutiny of my stare, I motioned with my head towards Falco’s, indicating my impatience and my desire for him to start moving. He turned and sulked back towards the bar.

  I made a few more circles around Paul’s parking space looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. The only clue I had was the wallet. Nothing appeared to be missing, so burglary did not appear to be a motive. However, its presence spoke volumes, and that is what worried me.

  ***

  Virgil and Ellie returned without Lisa while I was still standing in the parking lot. Virgil’s body language was not encouraging. Ellie informed me that Lisa was at the local hospital looking to see if Paul was there. She knew it was a stretch, but thought maybe he had hurt himself somehow and had to leave real fast, driving himself over for treatment.

  I said, “Good thinking, it will save me a trip there later either way. If he cut himself, he didn’t do it in this parking lot. I checked the area around his car, and there is no blood. We need to go inside and call Paul’s parents and then I need to visit the local police station and make a report.”

  Ellie said, “The police. Why the police?”

  “I will explain inside the bar after I have called his parents.”

  Steve had John’s phone number as I requested; however, he wanted to make the call, an option that I did not allow, although I was not looking forward to making the call. Paul’s mother answered on the second ring. I did not want to worry his wife. Thankfully she handed the phone over without question. I only needed a couple of minutes to explain the situation to John.

  John said, “Let me see if I understand this correctly. My son and his automobile went missing in Emmettsville, Tennessee less than an hour ago. His friend Steve thinks he ditched you guys for a girl, but you think Steve is wrong. You suspect there might even be foul play somehow, but you would rather elaborate when I get there. So, what do I tell Leota in the meantime?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you can just go with Steve’s theory, and leave my suspicion of foul play out for now. Besides, he could show up anytime with a reasonable explanation. Either way, I am sending the rest of the hiking group back to Memphis, so you need to get here because you are my ride home.”

  I gave John the name of the bar and its location, hung up, and then returned to the group. I had to tell them something; however, I was unsure if I should share my thoughts completely since I did not want to alarm or frighten anyone. The tension in the group was overt. Everyone was sitting forward in their chair, except Steve, who was pacing near the table. Kate tried to hold his hand and get him to sit, but he brushed her hand away.

  Ellie immediately asked, “Steve says you were out there looking around and now you have reasonable suspicion of a problem simply based on Paul’s wallet. What is going on here, L.T.?”

  “Look, I am not a forensics expert or anything, although I do have some experience with crime scenes, and this looks like a crime scene to me.”

  Ellie said, “What do you mean you have experience with crime scenes? You are a medical doctor. What does tha
t have to do with crime scenes?”

  “I was a Navy cop, well sort of, I was…”

  Ellie interrupted, “You said you were a military intelligence analyst, or aide, or something like that. What do you mean you were sort of a Navy cop? How are you sort of a cop?” Her brow was knitted up. She was not smiling.

  I sighed, taking in a deep breath before starting. “Please be patient and understand that I have to be somewhat vague with some of my answers since much of my time in the Office of Naval Intelligence is classified. For the first couple of years or so of my commission, I was attached to the Naval Investigative Service, or NIS.” Ellie had her arms crossed defensively in front of her. She was clenching her jaw. “During that time, I was undercover as an enlisted Navy Master-at-Arms, which is basically a Navy cop, similar to an Army MP, or Military Policeman. I went through the Master-at-Arms A school and everything before the Navy sent me to Subic Bay in the Philippines, where I performed as an actual Navy Master-at-Arms, even though I was technically undercover for NIS on a special mission that I cannot discuss. So, you see, I was a Navy cop. Sort of.”

  Kate said, “How does that give you experience with crime scenes?”

  “Subic Bay was the largest overseas U.S. Navy installation in the world at that time. It was big. Real big. Tens of thousands of people, and young enlisted military men can be a rambunctious bunch. Master-at-Arms personnel are the police force in a place like that, so I had to respond to many situations involving out-of-control sailors and Marines.”

  Steve said quickly, “Get to the point.”

  “My problem is that I cannot come up with a reasonable explanation for the location of the wallet.”

  While explaining the location of the wallet relative to Paul’s car, I watched their faces for their reactions. Surprisingly, Ellie was nodding affirmatively. Steve did stop pacing, only to replace it with an impatient bouncing.

  I said, “I find it peculiar that the wallet was found on the passenger side of Paul’s car; in fact, it appears to have been located under the front tire of the car parked next to his. There are even tire imprints on the outside of the wallet. That makes no sense to me. Why would he have been on the passenger side at all since he would have approached his car from the driver side?”