by Scott Cook
“Yes.”
“And do you need to ask me questions?”
“I have a few,” I said gently, “but I won’t ask if you don’t want to talk. It’s not absolutely necessary.”
She was quiet for a moment, “Scott… who killed my husband? Who is this Shade?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart… but I promise you that I will find out.”
“And when you do? What will you do to him?”
“Make sure he pays for what he’s done.”
She nodded her head slightly, still clinging to me. Her body trembled for a moment but there were still no tears. After a minute or two longer, she looked up into my face, still clinging to me and chuckled softly.
“You know what’s funny?” She asked. “I’ve secretly thought about doing something very much like this since we were kids.”
I grinned down at her, “Wish you would’ve. You’re still one of the prettiest girls in school. But you were too hung up on Billy.”
She chuckled again, “Yeah… but don’t think I didn’t think you were cute, too.”
I laughed quietly, “Oh, I am, no question on it. Cuter’n a basket of puppies.”
She laughed more heartily this time. It was reassuring. She released her hold on me and moved back to her original position. She reached for the remote and switched the TV off.
“Thanks…” She said with a sigh. “I’m okay… if you want to ask me some things, it’s okay.”
“You sure?”
She looked over at me and another small smile flittered across her full lips, “Yeah… as if I could resist. You have a way about you… a quality, I don’t know. You always have. It’s… it’s something that makes people trust you, like you and want to open up to you.”
I waved that off, “Not everybody, kid.”
“Yeah, bullshit… I suppose you want to know about what happened with Bill and me.”
“I haven’t talked to you guys in a while,” I admitted. “I talked to Bill a few days ago… just a few days… and he was pretty pissed off.”
“Probably not really at you,” Sam said. “Although you haven’t talked to either of us since April.”
“I know… I’m sorry, it’s just…”
She reached out and took my hand this time, “I read the book, Scott… I get it. Anyway, the thing between Bill and me had been building for a while. Maybe years. He’d just been getting more and more distant… and so had I. Work and stuff, I guess. But I don’t know, Scott… when this thing with Providence PD happened… it was like the last straw, I guess.”
“A lot of little things can add up,” I empathized, “and something big can break the camel’s back, I suppose.”
“That’s what happened…” She continued. “He was suspended and said that a big drug shipment had been found and that several officers were suspected of taking part of the money associated with it.”
“Yeah, I heard fifty grand,” I said doubtfully. “Hard to believe that of Bill.”
She looked sharply over at me, “Scott… it was a hell of a lot more than that. Ten times as much.”
“Christ…”
“Bill denied it, of course,” She went on. “Yet some things didn’t quite add up. One of those internal investigations dudes came and asked me a bunch of questions. He said they’d gotten ahold of our bank records and wanted to know where all the money had come from. I was really confused by that. Together we do okay, but nothing to brag about. But this guy showed me statements from a Citizens Bank account that had like a dozen big deposits of ten grand or more. I think the total over the past three years was like a hundred grand. Although at the time, the balance in the account was not even five grand.”
“You didn’t know anything about it,” I stated.
She shook her head, “No… Bill had opened the account in his own name. He’d put money in and then withdrew it a little later it looked like. Where it went after that, I have no idea.”
“Jesus, Bill…” I muttered under my breath. “Sammy… do you know how this bust started? I mean how the cops thought some of their own had skimmed? Did the I.A. guy say?”
She chuffed, “No. He’d ask the questions ma’am… prick. I don’t know how Bill got accused… but after seeing that account…”
I couldn’t blame her. It was difficult to argue with hard evidence. It was almost impossible for me to believe that an honest guy like Bill would steal money. On the other hand, working around drugs and drug money for so many years… maybe it wasn’t a far stretch.
Here’s this hardworking cop who’s doing okay, but who sees huge piles of illegal cash cross his path year after year… maybe the temptation to grab a little for himself was too great. Maybe Bill felt that he wasn’t really hurting anybody, taking money from crooks that was meant to buy drugs. Hell, it could even be that he felt the bastards owed him. It was a hard scenario for me to believe, yet I could see it. I could even see it happening to me if I were brutally honest.
“Had you and Bill talked much over the past two months?” I asked gently.
“A few times,” she admitted. “I didn’t hate him, Scott… we’ve been together since we were teenagers. You don’t just throw that much away, even if the relationship goes south. I certainly didn’t want him to be…”
“I know,” I said softly, patting her hand. “Nobody thinks that. Nobody would ever think that of you.”
Just then my mom poked her head around the doorjamb, “Hey you two… everything okay?”
Samantha smiled at my mother, “Yeah, better than it’s been in two days, Angela. Thank you.”
“Well, we’ve decided that it’s a beautiful summer day and we’re all going to head down to the beach and go to George’s for lunch,” My mom reported and then looked at me. “We’ll all be together, Scott. And that includes three big strong men in broad daylight.”
I chuckled, “Okay, mom. You’re right. Probably a good idea to take a ride down to Narragansett. Get some clam cakes and chowder and some Del’s!”
My mom waggled a finger at me, “Now, young man… you know its pronounced chowduh.”
Sam laughed and it was a pleasing thing to hear after how hollow she’d seemed when I’d first come in.
Chapter 20
Rhode Island is more or less a rectangle about forty miles wide and fifty tall. Jutting up into the middle of this trapezoid and going north about two-thirds of the way is the large Narragansett Bay, named for a pre-Columbian people who inhabited the area. It’s called the Ocean State because there is nearly three hundred and eighty-five miles of tidal coast between the beaches and the Bay. Providence and Warwick are located near the top of the Bay, while the famous city of Newport is located on an island at its mouth.
Narragansett, another famous city, is located on the lower western corner of the Bay and is well-known for its summer recreation. Additionally, the village of Point Judith, which itself contains the fishing village of Galilee, sits on a cape that opens from its extensive inland waters out onto Rhode Island Sound.
Point Judith features several beaches as well as a large fishing fleet. In addition, two ferries run multiple trips each day out to Block Island. Right at the Point Judith inlet and Salty Brine State Beach are a number of fish houses and seafood restaurants. Chief among these is George’s of Galilee.
George’s has probably been around for over a hundred years and sits in a two-story building with several dining options. Unlike another famous location nearby, Aunt Carey’s, George’s is open year round thanks to the large dining room. However, similar to Aunt Carey’s, George’s has a large upper deck for outdoor dining and great views of the beach and the busy inlet, as well as Block Island out on the horizon.
New England is known for many things, chief among these is clam chowder. Most people know about New England clam chowder… a creamy soup made with clams, potatoes and other ingredients. However, there are actually three kinds of chowder, two of which are almost exclusive too little Rhodey.
There is a tomato based red version, which I favor, as well as a clear chowder known as Rhode Island Clam Chowder. All three are made with the same basic ingredients, with the exception of the base. Because Rhode Island Chowder is clear, many people make their own chowder using this version and then add either cream or tomato base to create the version they like best.
Of course, your chowder wouldn’t be complete without clam cakes. These are little fritters made with bits of Quahog, a large clam predominantly found in Narragansett Bay and so popular in food and culture they’re damned near the state mascot. In fact, in the popular TV show Family Guy, peter Griffin and his family live in Quahog, Rhode Island.
The ride from Warrick down to George’s took about forty minutes, which for Rhode Islanders is considered quite a hike. I guess living in such a small state skews one’s perception of distance. I have heard growing up on many occasions that such a trek all the way down to the beach requires an overnight stay.
Luckily for us, my mom drives a new Chrysler Town and Country van, so all six of us were able to pile in comfortably for this lengthy sojourn. My dad refused to let any of us ride in the rolling butt-log, as he deemed it.
It was just after two when we arrived and found a parking space right on Sand Hill Cove road almost in front of the restaurant. It was a Monday, and the crowds were lighter, thankfully.
“Wow, this is a lot different than what I’m used to,” Wayne commented after we walked across the street and up onto the large flat top of the huge east breakwater that stretched out a quarter mile past the beach.
“Yeah,” My dad commented. “the New England coast is a bit different than Florida.”
“It’s got an old-world feel to it,” Wayne commented.
“That’s why they call it New England, Wayne,” Lauren teased.
“The water warm?” Wayne asked her.
“Not really, not by Florida standards,” Lauren replied. “Probably seventy right now.”
“Seems like you wouldn’t be such a smart ass then, being so close to it and so easily tossed in,” He said with a grin.
“Come, children,” Dad said. “I’m so hungry I think my belly button is sticking to my backbone. You can mouth off once we get a table.”
We walked back across the street, Sam holding onto my arm. She seemed a little better now, a bit less laconic. I hoped that this trend would continue. She’d been through a lot and it would take time, yet progress even this early was a good sign.
We went up the outdoor stairs and found a six-top on the south side of the upper deck. A light ten knot breeze was blowing from the west, and even at the end of August, it was pleasant to sit outside.
A very pretty server stepped up to our table. Her lithe body was clad in black jeans and a black polo shirt, of course. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a pony tail and held with a hank of scarlet ribbon. She grinned at us.
“Welcome to George’s, I’m Ashley and I’ll be your server. Wow… guess I found the good looking table!”
We all laughed and I said, “Well yeah… now that I’ve sat down.”
Wayne scoffed, “Don’t listen to him, Ashley, he suffers from a lack of humility. I think you know who the best looking guy at the table is.”
Ashley laughed and winked at Wayne, “Can I get you guys started with some drinks?”
We gave our orders and Ashley tripped off toward the kitchen. Lauren chuckled, “That backfired on ya’, huh, Scotty?”
“Yeah…. I suffer from a lack of humility…” I flipped Wayne off. “Poor girl, she obviously needs contacts or something.”
“Yeah,” My dad put in, “She clearly didn’t want to make either of you feel bad… she was all about the old man over here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” My mom gybed. “Take it easy, father time. The only interest she has in you is if she wants to know where to get an AARP card.”
“Ouch!” I said with a laugh.
“Damn, Frank,” Wayne added. “You want me to ask Ashley for a cup of ice so you can soothe that wicked burn?”
“Ha!” Lauren exclaimed. “He’s becoming a Rhode Islander already. Wicked burn…”
“Guess you guys are buying lunch,” My dad grumped good-naturedly.
“I still think you’re tolerable, honey,” My mom said and leaned in to kiss Dad.
Sam was smiling and giggling, “Are you guys ever serious?”
“Only about sex, darlin’,” My dad drawled.
Ashley returned with our beers and we ordered chowders and a huge basket of clam cakes. Wayne wasn’t sure what to try, so I said just get a bowl of red and one of white. No sense in limiting one’s self.
As I sipped my Narragansett draft, I noticed a man standing down below near the Salty Brine parking lot gazing up at the deck. He was maybe a hundred feet away and wore jeans and a Red Sox jersey. A big straw hat sat atop his head and obscured his features. As I caught sight of the man, I realized that I’d seen him before as well. It had been when we first arrived and were up on the breakwater.
It could be innocent, of course. Yet with all things considered, I wasn’t ready to accept that just yet. I turned my attention back to the conversation, yet I would keep my eyes peeled for the stranger again.
After I polished off my first bowl of chowder, I leaned back in my chair and stretched. Sure enough, I saw my buddy again. This time, he was loitering near the base of the stairs just within sight. I decided it was time to get a closer look.
“Wayne,” I said softly, “Just over my left shoulder, at the base of the stairs… you see that dude in the Sox jersey and the straw hat?”
Wayne casually stretched as well, “Got him.”
“I’ve seen him since we got here,” I whispered. “Keep an eye on him.”
I stood up.
“Had enough of us?” Lauren asked.
“You don’t buy Narragansett beer, babe,’ I said with a grin. “You only rent.”
There were bathrooms on the upper deck, of course. However, I pretended they were full and made my way down by using the inside stairs. This put me in the foyer and I could come out through the double doors onto the sidewalk.
I went out and quickly turned to my left and made my way back to the outdoor steps. As I came near, I saw the man who’d been watching us. He was of medium height and build. I couldn’t be entirely certain, but I thought he might be a bit taller than Shade and a little narrower in the shoulders. I’d only seen my adversary once, and that was lying down, but something told me this cat wasn’t Shade. However, when I was only ten feet from him, he noticed me coming and took off running for the far side of Sand Hill Cove Road.
“Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all…” I muttered as I gave chase.
As I ran after him, I reached back and touched the butt of the weapon I had hidden in the waistband of my shorts. It was one of my dad’s own, a nickel plated Smith and Wesson .38 revolver. I preferred a semi-automatic mostly for the larger ammo load out, but a revolver did have a particular advantage over my ACP. There were no expelled shell casings. Revolvers made good assassin weapons for that reason. You didn’t have to police your expended brass in order to leave less of a trace.
That was all fine, of course… but it wasn’t like I could whip out the compact .38 and start taking shots at my target in broad daylight in a populated area. I just wanted to make sure the pistol was snugly secure as I ran.
Sox man rounded a car and barreled up the sidewalk, weaving around tourists and eventually fisherman. On the water side of the street, which became Ocean Drive eventually, the restaurants and shops gave way to larger fish houses and wharfs as well as the ferry port. There were lots of obstacles and barriers, and although neither one of us was running at full tilt, I wasn’t gaining very fast.
I saw my man dart sideways down an alley between two fish houses and I picked up speed and made the corner. The alley was short and quickly opened onto a small loading area and a series of docks. Along the walls of the buildings were old crates and pallets. I
could no longer see my quarry now.
I bolted to the end of the alley where it opened up and quickly looked around. There were several lobster boats that were unloading but no Red Sox jersey.
I whipped around and was just in time to see the man leap up from behind a stack of pallets and turn to run back up the alleyway. I lunged for him and caught the back of the shirt just as he was getting his legs under him.
“The fuck you goin’?” I asked, my Rhode Island accent bubbling to the surface.
“Get the fuck off me Jarvis!” he shouted, his straw hat falling to the ground as he struggled.
“Who the hell are you?” I snapped.
The man was maybe my age, with a lean rat-like face. He had a nasty looking knife scar that ran from just outside his left eye and down his cheek to his jaw line. He had greasy coarse black hair and dark eyes that burned with fury.
“Figures you don’t know who I am, you fuckin’ prick,” he grumbled.
“Hey!” Called one of the fisherman in heavy Rhode Island, “what’s goin’ on oveuh there?”
“Should I know you?” I asked, pushing him into the alley and hopefully out of sight of the other men.
“You ruined my life,” Greasy hair growled. “You oughta remember. You busted me like twelve years ago. I got ten years for trafficking!”
“Yeah,” I said, treating him to a short but hard rabbit punch into his belly to take some of the fight out of him. “All my fault, pal.”
“I said what the frig’s goin’ on?” The same fisherman balled from behind me. He sounded closer now.
What a time for a Good Samaritan…
“So you’re following me because you got pinched a dozen years ago?” I asked.
He wheezed, “Don’t worry about why I’m followin’ yiz…”
“You’d better answer me, fuck face, or you’re gonna do another stretch in the joint,” I hissed as I heard sirens whoop out on the street.
“What’a yous’ doin’?” The fisherman said as he jogged up with two of his mates in tow.