His father grumbled and pushed by, letting the screen slam behind him as he walked down the steps. Alex started to follow him down to his truck. He could smell the bourbon and sweat on the man. "Why do you do this, Pop? That woman is a train wreck."
"You think I'm not?" the old man snarled back over his shoulder.
Alex heard the door open again behind them and turned to see Ella coming out on the porch. She was pulling a rumpled old plaid robe around her plump bare body and was clearly surprised to see him there with his father.
"Alex," she said hesitantly, finishing with the tie on her robe. "How you been, boy?"
"Fine, Ella, just fine."
"Tell your old man he's a sonofabitch, and he's not welcome around here no more!"
"Zip it, woman!" the Skipper yelled back.
Alex watched as she reached for a cigarette and lighter in her pocket and lit up. Her dyed red hair was all askew and the bags under her eyes were dark and puffy. "You got time for a cup of coffee, Alex?" she asked. "We haven't caught-up in a long time."
"No, Ella. Need to get back to Charleston. Just checkin' in on the Old Man."
Her expression darkened again. "Skipper, I'm through with your ass!"
His father didn't respond to her and opened the door to his truck. "Meet me down at the diner," he said under his breath. He slammed the door and started the old rusted Chevy truck. As Alex started to walk down to his own car, he waved at Ella Moore. "Nice to see you, Ella."
The woman waved back. "Adrienne asked about you the other night."
Alex felt his stomach tighten. "She and Scottie doing okay?"
Ella shook her head. "Never know with that girl."
Alex nodded back as he got into his car. He yelled up to the house, "Nice to see you. Ella. Take it easy on the Skipper. He can't help himself." He watched as she shook her head in disgust.
Skipper Frank had already found an empty booth at Andrew's. The proprietor, Lucy, was placing two cups of steaming coffee down in front of him as Alex walked up.
"Morning, Lucy," Alex said. "How about a couple scrambled and that whole wheat bread you bake, toasted?"
"Coming right up, Alex," she said and gave him a hug. "Nice to see you." She and her husband had run the diner in Dugganville for over two decades and she had treated Alex and his brother like her own sons as they'd grown up here. She turned to his father. "Skipper?"
"Same," the old man growled back. "Throw some fried taters on there, too."
She walked away shaking her head and Alex sat down across from his father. He obviously hadn't shaved in days. His eyes were bloodshot, and his gray hair pushed out in stray clumps from a worn and dirty Atlanta Braves ball cap. "What's the latest with you and Ella?"
The Skipper shook his head in disgust. "The old woman must think I'm twenty years old. She wanted to do the nasty again this morning. I got about one in me a week these days, for chrissakes."
"Aren't the two of you a bit old for that nonsense," Alex said, not able to hide a smile.
"Damn woman's insatiable!"
"I swear you two together is worse than a damn tsunami. Wouldn't you be better off movin' on?"
"You saw she just thow'd me out again."
"But you'll be back in no time, right?"
The Skipper just grunted and sipped at his hot coffee.
Alex leaned in and spoke softly, not wanting those at nearby tables and the counter to hear. "What's this about you missing the channel comin' in Bulls Bay the other day?"
He watched an angry scowl come across his father's face. "That damn Robbie snitchin' on me again? I need to fire his ass!"
"Pop, I'm just worried about you out on the salt. Doesn't take much to get into trouble out there."
"What else am I gonna do? I got to run the business and pay the bills."
Alex said, "I know you got plenty of money saved and you can sell the Maggie Mae and settle back. You've earned it. Maybe spend some time down in the Keys and take the skiff to do some fishing. I'd go with you."
"Ain't never sellin' the Maggie Mae. Be like cuttin' off my right arm."
"Pop, you're movin' in on seventy. No shame in retirement and I think you need a change of scenery after all these years. Might meet a nice lady down there who isn't as damn crazy as you are."
The Skipper shook his head and looked out the window at cars passing on Main.
"Pop, you hearing me?"
His father looked back. "I know you mean well, Alex, but this is all I know, and I got no intention of startin' over somewhere else."
Chapter Four
Hanna was half-way back to Charleston, driving south on Highway 17, listening to country music on the radio and enjoying the beautiful morning and countryside passing by. Images of her recent weekend at the beach house with Alex kept coming back to her and she smiled as she thought about their recent time together. Alex Frank had become a treasured part of her life and she felt fortunate they had navigated the dark waters of the past year to come together again and continue on as a couple. There had even been some talk recently about living together full-time, but neither could agree on where, other than the beach house on Pawleys Island which had become their almost constant weekend refuge.
The lyrics from the song on the radio broke her thoughts. It was another classic country music story about "a man's wife leaving town with his best friend ... and he missed him." She laughed and turned the volume down when her cell phone rang on the console beside her. The caller-ID indicated it was her stepmother, Martha Wellman Moss. Hanna's delight in the coming day quickly soured as she considered letting the call go to voice mail. Her father's second wife was a constant irritant in her life, and she was in no mood to let the woman spoil such a marvelous morning.
The call ring ended and a short time later a chime indicated Martha had left a message. Hanna decided to listen to it when she got to the office.
Her free legal clinic in Charleston was continuing to attract more clients than she and her small staff could possibly assist, and she found she was referring more people than she would have liked to other free legal services. She was also balancing much of her week working with paying clients with the small firm she had joined on Pawleys Island. She still had bills to pay and college tuition for her son, Jonathan, up in Chapel Hill. After her husband's death and the near total financial collapse he brought down on their family, she had been able to at least keep the family's long-held house on the beach going back to the mid-1800's and her ancestors, the Paltierres.
She was not so fortunate in saving her home in Charleston along the Battery and now lived in a modest apartment above her legal clinic in an old historic house in a neighborhood just a few blocks from the city's center.
As hard as she tried, her latest episode with Martha crept back into her thoughts. The woman lived with her father in Atlanta in the quite-spacious Moss family home on West Paces Ferry Road north of town. The house dated back to family ancestors, the Coulters from the early 1900's. The Coulters ran the liquor trade in the South in the years before and after Prohibition. Tales of their nefarious exploits were still not so quiet gossip in Atlanta social circles. One of their sons, Mathew Coulter, had become a well-known novelist beginning in the 1930's. The house had passed along to Allen Moss's mother's side of the family in the 50's. Hanna had grown up in the house and was always embarrassed by the opulence of the place, though many of her friends lived in similar homes in the area.
Martha had called Hanna two weeks ago to complain that her father was thinking of selling the big house and getting a penthouse condo downtown that would be more convenient to his work office at the law firm where he had served as senior partner for many years. Martha was clearly more concerned she would lose the big house in the inheritance when Allen Moss finally passed. It was all Hanna could do to keep from hanging up on the woman. Two people living alone in a seven-bedroom, 10,000 square foot home was surely nonsensical, but Martha was twenty years younger
than her husband and certainly had her sights on being matron of the "Moss Manor" in Buckhead society for many years to come.
Hanna had ended the call with a firm rebuke, stressing that it was her father's house and he could damn well do what he pleased with it, yet she knew this was far from the end of the drama. She hadn't bothered to call her father about it. He was certainly capable of handling the situation as he saw best.
Allen Moss had been back at work full-time for over six months since a near fatal heart procedure had slowed him considerably. Hanna had tried to convince him to step back his workload, but he would have nothing of it. The firm was his life and he would probably breathe his last breath in the big leather chair in his office looking out over the skyline of Atlanta.
Fortunately, in Hanna's mind at least, he had stopped trying to bring her back to the firm to begin moving her into a position to keep a Moss family member in a senior role. She had worked there in the first years of her career after law school and frankly, hated every minute of it, working with Atlanta's "upper-crust" with their divorces and other legal entanglements. She found far more satisfaction helping the community's under-served in Charleston.
The chaos in the front lobby area of her legal clinic was not surprising. Phones were ringing, loud conversations among different groups of lawyers and their clients were trying to be heard above the din. The old two-story home she had renovated to open the clinic had a daily flow of people needing help with housing, jobs, bankruptcies, various crimes and numerous other legal issues. Hanna had two other lawyers currently working part-time with her and two legal assistants. It was all they could do to keep up with the heavy volume of cases, but to Hanna, it was a labor of love.
Her long-time assistant, Molly, looked up and smiled as Hanna came in the front door from the street. Molly had a phone to her ear and both hands on the keyboard to the computer screen in front of her. Her expression echoed the fact it was a typically crazy Monday morning. She handed Hanna a tall pile of pink phone messages as she walked past to go back to her office.
She closed the door behind her and sat at the old oak desk against the far wall. One window on the side looked out through tall shrubs to the house very close next door. Taking a deep breath, she began sorting through her messages as she powered-up her computer and waited for her email in-box to load. On her cell phone calendar, she saw she had her first appointment in five minutes.
Her cell phone buzzed on her desk. It was Alex and she pushed the receive button. "Hey!"
"Just wanted to make sure you made it back okay," she heard him say.
"No trouble. Missed most of the early traffic." Then she remembered the phone message from her stepmother. It always galled her to consider the woman her stepmother. She was barely a few years older and certainly played no motherly role in Hanna's life. "Martha called. More drama in Atlanta. Allen wants to sell the house." She always called her father by his first name. He thought it was more professional, certainly in public, than Daddy. "I let it go to voice mail."
"You need to lighten up some on the woman," Alex teased. "She takes good care of your father."
"Other than the fact she's a gold-digging selfish boor, she's just great!"
Alex laughed and then said, "Look, I'm almost downtown. Stopped to see my father on the way down. He and Ella were going at it again."
"They're quite the couple."
"She was pissed he wouldn't have sex with her again before breakfast," he said, laughing again.
"What will we do with those two?"
"He also won't listen to reason about cutting back on the shrimp boat and won't discuss the memory issues."
"We just need to keep after him before something serious happens," she said.
There was a pause and then he said, "Okay, I'm parking. Got to catch-up with Lonnie. I've got some food in the fridge. I'll cook unless you have plans."
"I'll look forward to it... as long as I get to help in the kitchen." She was always hesitant about his ability to prepare an edible meal.
"Just bring a bottle of wine. I think we're out."
"See you tonight," she replied. "Hope your Monday isn't as crazy as mine is starting out."
He clicked off and she decided to listen to Martha's voice mail before her first appointment arrived.
The familiar "sugar sweet" southern voice came over the phone's speaker, "Good morning, Hanna. Hope y'all had a fine weekend. Hate to bother you but wanted to catch you before you hear from your father. We're having a little thing and I wanted you to hear my side of the story first. Please call me as soon as you can this morning." The message ended.
Hanna sighed and was tempted to disregard the request but decided better of it. Martha answered on the second ring. "Oh, Hanna. Thanks for calling back so quickly. I know how busy you are."
She tried to control her impatience and keep her tone calm. "What's going on with you and Allen?"
"We had a terrible argument last night... it just got really ugly."
"About the house?" Hanna asked.
"No, we're still discussing that, but your father is completely insane about something he has totally misunderstood."
"And what is that?" Hanna asked, her impatience difficult to hide.
"Your father thinks I'm having an affair..."
"What!"
"He's completely wrong about the whole situation, but he won't listen to reason."
"Give me the short version," Hanna said, "I have an appointment in two minutes."
"You know Robert Aylesworth, the investment banker your father and I have been friends with for years?"
"Yes, I know Robert."
"Well, your father has it in his head that Robert and I have been seeing each other and..."
"And are you?" Hanna said curtly.
"Not like that, Hanna. I swear."
"Why would Allen think otherwise, Martha?"
She hesitated before answering, then said, "Well, Robert and I do run in the same circles and end-up spending a lot of time together. We're in the same mixed-doubles tennis league at the club and he's been taking yoga in one of my classes lately, which your father doesn't feel up to doing anymore."
Hanna was quickly losing her patience. "The man almost died from heart disease last year, Martha!"
"Of course, honey. I don't mean anything by that, but Robert and I were having a drink at the club after yoga last night and your father walked into the room and totally misread the situation."
"Martha, listen, I need to run. Someone's waiting to see me." She was trying her best to believe the woman's innocence but was doubtful at best. Finally, she said, "I know you love my father, but please don't do anything to hurt him or I swear..."
"Hanna, honestly, nothing's happening. I just wanted you to hear what's really going on before you speak with your father next."
Hanna doubted that Allen would even bring it up. His damn pride wouldn't let him admit to his daughter that his wife might be shacking-up with another man. "Martha, I need to go."
"Bye, dear!"
Chapter Five
Alex wasn't even out of his car in the lot next to the police precinct in downtown Charleston when his phone buzzed. It was his partner and he touched the screen to take the call.
"Lonnie, sorry I'm late. I'm downstairs. I'll be up in a minute."
He could hear the concern in the man's voice. "Make it quick! We have a thing coming down fast on the "hitter" we've been tracking."
Alex ended the call and gathered a few items on the seat next to him including his service weapon, a 9mm Ruger semi-automatic that he carried in a shoulder holster. It was the same model he had carried during his tour of duty with the Marines in Afghanistan.
The "hitter" Lonnie Smith was referring to was a reputed hit man for the Dellahousaye crime family that operated across the South, with unfortunately, too much activity in the Charleston area lately in illegal drugs, gambling and prostitution. Connor and Beau Richards,
who Alex had finally arrested a year earlier up in Dugganville, were wired into the organization although both were now serving long sentences in the state penitentiary.
Asa Dellahousaye ran the family and all the many branches and tentacles. At 72 years of age, he had remarkably managed to avoid arrest and jail-time over his long career in crime. He had a powerful stable of lawyers, judges, politicians and influential social and business leaders watching his back... and sharing in the hefty and illicit profits. His legitimate business enterprises included real estate and construction, and his generous philanthropic endeavors helped to mask the true nature of his empire.
The hit man was a deranged lowlife, reportedly operating out of the Caribbean lately, named simply, Caine. Alex never knew if it was his first or last name. He did know the man had a long sheet of attributed kills around the world, including two recent murders in Charleston that appeared to be tied to the Dellahousaye family.
Alex and Lonnie had been following up on several leads indicating the man was in town with more work to be done for Asa D, as he was best known by "friends" and "associates".
Alex found Lonnie at his desk upstairs. The big man was breathless, and his face and shaved head were covered in drips of sweat from the early heat and humidity of the coming day. They had been partners for over five years and had grown to become close friends away from work. Alex was Godfather to Lonnie and Ginny Smith's five kids. Hanna had also grown close to the family over the past year. Lonnie was the first African American to earn his detective shield in the department and was highly regarded for his work. Many thought he was on track to be Chief someday.
"Just got a call from our friend Jeb down at his bar on King street," Lonnie said. "Says a man that looks like the picture we dropped off is on his second bourbon."
"We got back-up?"
Lonnie nodded as they both headed to the door. Two uniforms and Beatty and Mills from upstairs will meet us down the block from Jeb's in five minutes."
"We got the green light on this guy from the Captain?" Alex asked. "You know he's gonna be comin' out hot."
DEATH ON THE NEW MOON (A Troubled Waters Suspense Thriller Book 6) Page 2