Another Mother

by Rodney Riesel

As most of the group filed out, Dan stayed and helped fold and stack the chairs. When the task was complete, he walked over to a banquet table where there was a coffee maker, and poured himself some coffee into a Styrofoam to-go cup. He blew into the cup, took a sip, and placed a plastic lid on top.

  Ava met Dan at the table and poured herself a cup as well. “I've missed you at the Monday meetings, Rick,” she said.

  Dan grinned, remembering he had always told everyone at the meetings that his name was Rick. “My name's not Rick,” he confessed.

  Ava looked confused. “I thought you—”

  “I just use that name here,” he explained. “I don't know why. Stupid, I guess.”

  “No,” said Ava. “I understand.”

  Dan offered his hand. “Dan Coast.”

  Ava took his hand and gave it a slight shake. “Ava Mills.”

  “Sounds like everything is going real good for you,” Dan said.

  Ava nodded. “Yes, it is,” she said. “I even got my old job back two weeks ago.”

  “That's great. What do you do?”

  “I work in the office at Bayside Realty up in Marathon.” A shameful look crossed her face. “They always treated me good … even when I wasn't treating them very good.”

  “They sound like good people.” Good, Dan thought, we're saying good a lot.

  Ava pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to Dan. “So, if you're ever in the market for a new home … or anything else, give me a call.” She smiled. Her teeth were just the right color of white, and perfectly straight.

  Dan looked at the card. “I'll be sure to call you,” he said. “I mean, if I'm ever, you know, in the market.” Dan felt his face flush.

  Ava smiled again. “Well, goodbye, Dan.”

  “Bye,” Dan said. He pulled the lid off his cup and took another sip; it was still too hot. He put the lid back on.

  “How's it going, Rick?” Hal asked, on his way by. He stopped and added: “Wish you'd share more with the group. Maybe next time?”

  “Yeah, Hal, maybe next time,” Dan replied. He faked a smile that made him look like the Grinch when he had a wonderful awful idea.

  Hal clapped him on the back heartily, “That's the spirit.”

  Chapter Six

  As Dan zipped along A1A in his Porsche, he reached into the side pocket of his cargo shorts and grabbed his cell phone. He turned it on and laid it in the passenger seat. It illuminated and buzzed a few times.

  I should have grabbed a couple donuts, he thought.

  Dan knew the Galley Grill would be coming up on the left. He thought back to last time he ate at the funky eatery with the to-die-for menu. He remembered the shootout there with Melvin Jessup, the redheaded hit man. Dan wondered if anyone at the Galley Grill would remember him. He wondered if he should stop and grab something to eat.

  Maxine was already at work, so she wouldn't be at home to make him anything, and he was too lazy to make something for himself. He knew there was a box of unfrosted Pop-Tarts—the only good type of Pop-Tarts—in the cupboard, but he was hungrier than that.

  His cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “I've called you five times!” Red said.

  “Including this call?” Dan asked.

  “What?”

  “Five times including this one, or five plus this one?”

  “Including—what? I don't know. Shut up.”

  “What did you want?”

  “Did you forget we were supposed to pick up your brother last night?”

  “Sorry. Maxine wouldn't let me come out and play.”

  “You're pathetic.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Don't worry, I picked him up.”

  “I wasn't worried.”

  “He stayed at my house last night.”

  “Cool.”

  “Did you talk to your dad?”

  “No. He won't be home until later tonight.”

  “Did you say anything to your mom?”

  “Christ, no!”

  “Where are you?”

  “Just coming into Summerland Key.”

  “Did you eat breakfast?”

  “No.”

  “Call Maxine and ask her if you can have breakfast with us.”

  “I don't need her permission.”

  “Do you want me to call her and ask?”

  “I said I don't need her permission,” Dan snapped back.

  “Says the guy who couldn't leave his house last night.”

  “I could have.”

  “Then why didn't you?”

  “Why don't you shut up? I'll be to your house in about a half hour.”

  “Okay, we'll wait for you, but hurry up.”

  “I said a half hour.”

  “But you're driving a Porsche, it should take only twenty—”

  Dan hung up before Red could finish his sentence.

  *****

  Dan arrived on Thompson Street twenty-five minutes later and parked in front of Red's house. He climbed out of his car, walked across the street, and went inside.

  Red and Richard Bong sat at Red's kitchen table, each with a cup of coffee in front of them.

  Red looked up at the wall clock that hung above the table. “About time,” he said.

  “Morning, Dan,” said Richard.

  “Morning, Richard,” Dan replied. “If that's your real name.”

  Richard managed a chuckle. Red's been telling me what a joker you are.”

  “I wasn't joking.”

  “You want a cup of coffee, Dan?” Red asked.

  “Had three cups this morning already,” Dan answered. “I just gotta get something to eat. I'm starving.”

  Red downed the remainder of his coffee. “Let's go then.”

  Dan wanted to ride to breakfast in his own car, but Red suggested they all ride over together in Richard's roomy Passat. Red let Dan ride up front with his “brother.”

  “So, Red tells me you're a private investigator,” said Richard.

  “Kinda,” Dan replied.

  “Don't be so modest,” Red said from the backseat. He slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Me and Dan have solved quite a few cases over the last three years, or so.”

  “Oh yeah?” Richard said. “That sounds pretty cool.”

  “Tell him, Dan,” Red prodded. “We solved a couple murders, some insurance fraud cases. We caught a couple cheating husbands. We even rescued a little Cuban girl from her kidnappers once. Got a citation and everything for that one. Tell him, Dan.”

  “You just told him, Red,” said Dan. “What else did he tell you about me?”

  “He mentioned you're getting married,” Richard replied. “He told me you moved down here about five years ago with your dog.”

  “That's it?” Dan asked. He stared at Richard, waiting for the rest of Red's CliffsNotes version of his life story to be divulged.

  “He didn't tell me you had won the lottery, if that's what—”

  “There it is,” said Dan.

  “I didn't say anything,” Red asserted.

  “I found out myself, while I was looking for you,” Richard said. “I stumbled upon a Dan Coast whose name was listed in a database of people who had won sizeable lottery jackpots in New York State. Naturally my curiosity kicked in and I followed up on it.”

  “And that's why you decided to track me down,” Dan surmised.

  “I was tracking you down before I found out about it,” Richard explained. “I don't want any of your money, Dan.”

  “Well that's reassuring, brother,” Dan said with much sarcasm.

  Richard pulled the car to the curb on Eaton Street, in front of Endless Summer Apparel, and put it in park. He turned to Dan. “Listen, Coast, I don't want anything from you. I was an only child. The man I thought was my father passed away. After that, it was only me and my mother. Now that she's gone too, and I'm all alone. I just wanted to find you, meet you, and maybe spend some time getting to know you and the rest of my fam
ily. That's it. If this is too much for you, or you don't trust me, just give me the word and I'll be on the next plane outta here. But let me make one thing clear. Either way, I will be contacting our father. I need to meet him.”

  Dan stared at Richard without expression. He was silent.

  “What's it gonna be, Coast?” Richard asked. “You want me to stay, or do you want me to leave?”

  Dan slowly turned his head and looked out the front windshield. “We might as well get something to eat first.”

  Richard put the car back in drive and headed down Eaton Street.

  “You're gonna want to make a right up here on Grinnell Street,” said Dan.

  Chapter Seven

  “I'll have two eggs over-medium, home fries, bacon, and white toast,” Dan said. He folded his menu and handed it to the waitress.

  “I'll have the same,” said Red, “but make my eggs scrambled, and I'll have rye toast instead of white. Also, sausage instead of bacon.”

  The waitress looked a little confused, but jotted it down anyway.

  “How is that the same thing?” Dan asked, shaking his head.

  “Eggs, meat, and toast,” Red replied. “The same as you.”

  Richard chuckled. “I'll have the short stack of pancakes with sausage,” he said.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” said the young brunette. “I'll put that right in.”

  “Can I get some more coffee too?” Red asked.

  “You sure can, hon,” she replied.

  Red watched the attractive twenty-something walk back to the kitchen. When she disappeared through the door he turned back to his companions. “She wants me,” he said.

  Dan snorted contemptuously. “Oh yeah, sure. What makes you say that?”

  “She called me hon,” Red replied.

  “She probably calls everyone hon,” said Richard.

  “Did she call you hon?” Red asked.

  “Well, no.”

  “Okay then. Besides, I'm sure you saw the look she gave me.”

  “What look was that?” Dan asked.

  “You know … the look.”

  “I don't know.”

  “I don't know either,” Richard said. “You'll have to explain.”

  “The look,” Red insisted.

  “Can you demonstrate?” Richard asked.

  Dan snickered. “Yeah, Red. Give Richard the look.”

  Red cocked his head slightly, tried his hardest to bat his eyelashes, and then gave his best come hither look. He gave a little pout and then an almost imperceptible nod of the head.

  “Ohhh,” said Richard. “The look.”

  “See what I mean?” Red said.

  “No,” Richard replied. “I didn't see her do that.”

  Dan laughed.

  “Well, she did,” said Red.

  “We'll just have to take your word for it,” Dan said.

  “Screw both of you,” Red mumbled.

  “You give me the look one more time and I just might let you,” Richard shot back.

  Dan did a spit take. He and Richard couldn't stop laughing. Dan still had his suspicions, but he found himself warming up to the long-lost “brother.”

  Red got up from the table. “Laugh it up,” he said. “I gotta piss.”

  Richard watched as the big man made his way toward the restroom. “How long you two been friends?” he asked.

  “Since the first week I arrived, I guess. His place was the first bar I went to when I moved here.”

  “What made you pick his place?”

  “It was one of the only places my wife and I hadn't—” Dan paused. He moved his coffee cup an inch to the left, and straitened his silverware on the napkin. He needed a second to continue. “It was one of the only places my wife and I hadn't been to together.”

  “Red told me you lost your wife right before you moved down here.”

  “Yeah, that's right, but the two of us came down here for a couple weeks right before she passed away.”

  “I see.”

  “We purchased the house where I now live. We returned home—upstate New York—to pack our things for the move down here. She was killed in an automobile accident a few days before the move.”

  “I'm sorry,” Richard said.

  “Thanks.”

  “You also had a brother that passed when you were kids.”

  Dan nodded. “Yes.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I'd rather not talk about that … Rich.” Dan looked around the room for the waitress. When he made eye contact, he raised his coffee mug. She nodded her head, and went for the coffee maker.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  The two men sat in silence until after the waitress arrived and refilled their mugs.

  “Red says you're getting married,” Richard said.

  “Yup.”

  “Have a date set?”

  “Not yet, but don't bring that up when you meet Maxine. It's kind of a sore subject.”

  “I was hoping I would get to meet her.”

  “How about later this evening?” Dan suggested.

  “That would be great,” Richard replied excitedly. “How about if I take the two of you out for dinner?”

  “Why don't we just meet you at Red's around six,” Dan suggested. “We'll eat there. Red can give you directions to the place.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The two men turned their heads and watched as the big bow-legged man returned from the bathroom.

  “Miss me?” Red asked.

  “Like a big turd after the flush,” Dan replied.

  Chapter Eight

  After breakfast, Richard dropped Dan back off at Red's house. Dan climbed into his car and headed straight for the Key West Police Department.

  “I need a favor, Rick,” Dan said. He sat in one of the two wooden chairs facing Chief of Police Rick Carver's desk. Sitting on top of Rick's desk was a half-eaten Cuban Mix sandwich (a deliciously artery-hardening medley of ham, cheese, roast pork, salami, lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles) from the Key West Corner Sandwich Shop, and a Diet Pepsi.

  Rick looked at Dan for a few seconds without saying anything. Dan noticed that Rick's lips were moving, like he was talking silently to himself. Finally Rick leaned back in his chair and spoke. “You know, Coast, I needed a favor from you last week, but you didn't deliver.” Rick didn't seem angry, nor was he speaking as loud as he usually did. He seemed calm.

  “What favor was that, Rick?” Dan asked.

  “When you and I found that body upstairs in the house next door to yours.”

  “At the Stewarts' place?”

  “Yes,” Rick replied. “Do you remember the one thing I asked of you?”

  “Keep my nose out of it?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But, Rick, we—”

  Rick put up his hand to silence his friend. “There's no but. I asked you to stay out of it, but you wouldn't listen.”

  “And we solved the case,” Dan reminded him.

  “That's beside the point. My therapist says that if you and I can't get on the same page as far as our relationship goes, then I can no longer stay in this relationship. It's just not healthy for me.”

  “Relationship?” Dan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Same page?”

  “The same page.”

  “Therapist? What therapist?”

  “I've been seeing a therapist for about a month now. She helps me with my anger issues. I've been off my blood pressure medication for over a week now.”

  “Um … that's great. Are you also on drugs? Because you seem like you're on drugs. Something just doesn't seem right with you lately.”

  Rick cocked his head and looked pitifully at his friend. “Everything has never been more right.”

  “Okay. So then, you're going to do me the favor?”

  “Of course I am. That's what friends are for. But I expect the same respect from you from this point on. Do I have your word?”

  “Of course
, Rick.”

  “Now what's the favor?”

  “Someone claiming to be my brother showed up in town the other day.”

  “I didn't know you had a brother.”

  “Neither did I. He says my father and his mother were together in Vietnam. He and his mother, along with the man he thought was his father, moved to the states when he was young. Before his mother passed away, she told him the truth about his birth father.”

  “I see. Have you spoken to your dad about this?”

  “I called him, but he's out of town and won't be back until tonight. He's supposed to call me back when he gets home.”

  “And you want me to run a check on this guy.” Rick pulled a note pad over in front of him and picked up a pencil. “What's his name?”

  “He says his name is Richard Bong, and he's from Texas. He says he's forty-six years old. His mother's name was Tran—maiden name Pham—and his adoptive father's name was Kim. That's all I know about him.”

  Rick jotted as Dan spoke. When he finished writing, he lay the pencil down on top of the notepad. “That should be enough to go on,” he said. “I'll let you know what I find out.”

  “Thanks,” Dan said, as he stood up from the chair. He looked down at the half-eaten Cuban sandwich. Then his eyes went to Rick's huge gut. “Is your therapist going to help you with—never mind.”

  “Help me with what?” Rick asked.

  “Nothing,” Dan answered. He turned and grabbed the doorknob.

  “Oh, and Dan, the therapist thing, that's just between you and me. I don't really want it getting out that I'm seeing a therapist.”

  “Of course, Rick. I promise I won't say a word.”

  “Thanks, Dan.”

  “No problem, pal.” Dan turned and went out the door. As he was crossing the parking lot toward his car he reached for his cell phone and dialed.

  “Hello?” said Red.

  “Rick's seeing a friggin' therapist.”

  Chapter Nine

  “I can't believe Rick is seeing a therapist,” said Maxine.

  “I know,” Dan agreed. “I was just as shocked as you.”

  “Do you know who it is?”

  “I have no idea. But don't mention it to anyone. He asked me not to say anything.”

  “Oh, I wouldn't say anything.”