The Palm Reader

by Christopher Bowron

  “Peter, I’ve heard this is how the Russian mob operates. I’m gonna think on things for a bit, but I don’t think the police will find anything. That guy, Eli Romanov, looked like he’d been expecting us. Can you ask if the police ever found another way into the rear garage?” He explained what he’d seen.

  “That’s stuff for another day, Jack. Any sign of Lopez?”

  “Negatory!”

  “Check back with me once you’re finished with the police.”

  “Will do.”

  ****

  By the time Jack and Janie were called in to make their statement, Gramps still hadn’t shown up. When Perry reported back that he had seen neither hide nor hair of the old Indian, Jack became even more than worried. They were ushered into a small room. Once they were seated behind a long table, a female officer entered and addressed them. She wore a compassionate look.

  “Mr. Walker, my name is Detective Stiner. I’m aware you are the blood relative of the deceased, whom we are asking you to identify. These things are not easy,” she said, staring into his eyes.

  Jack sighed, “I understand.”

  “The remains have been substantially altered due to the time in the sea water.”

  Jack nodded, looking over to Janie. “You don’t need to do this.”

  Janie gave him a stern look. “Not leaving your side until this case is over.”

  The officer looked at them and questioned, “Case?”

  Jack responded, “I’m a lawyer. We’ve been working for a client . . .”

  Janie shot him her best eye dagger, hoping he wouldn’t mention that they thought Josh’s death could in fact be related. The look wasn’t missed by the female detective.

  Jack motioned at the manila folder on the desk. “I’m ready.”

  She nodded. “The photos were taken at the city morgue an hour ago. You have the right to see the remains in person, but we find most do well enough with these.” She spread seven forensic shots out on the table.

  Both Janie and Jack recoiled at the depictions. Jack knew the subject to be his cousin within half a second, though what was left of his body looked distorted. Still, Jack could tell it was Josh from his nose and jawline, along with a Rastafarian woven bracelet around his wrist he’d worn for as long as Jack could remember. What shattered Jack the most was the eight-inch slice, which opened up his throat nearly ear to ear, the edges gnawed by crabs.

  Jack’s jaw quivered and he put his hand to his mouth. He was not quick enough to keep the contents of his stomach from spewing onto the floor. His head barely turned fast enough to miss the table.

  Janie put her hand on his back. “You okay, Jack?” she said, rubbing in a circular motion. She looked up to the officer, who was now talking to someone on the intercom.

  She motioned to the mess on the floor. “Not uncommon. Someone will be in to clean up. We can move to another room. I’d like you to make a statement, if you’re willing. You do have a right to have an attorney present.”

  Jack motioned it would not be necessary.

  “Would you like to step into the restroom first?”

  “Yes, please.” Jack needed to throw cold water on his face.

  The two women waited in the hall until he joined them. The detective ushered them into a similar room and again placed a recording device on the table. She turned to Janie. “Ms. Callaghan, you’ll have to wait outside. We’ll take your statement once Mr. Walker is finished.”

  Stiner sat across from Jack and pressed the record button. “Can you confirm for me that your name is Jackson Walker of Ft. Myers, Florida, and that you can identify the victim?”

  “I can. He was my first cousin, Joshua Portman.”

  “Mr. Walker, the deceased was found in the canal behind your house. Can you tell me anything which might help us determine a motive for his killing? I will tell you that we are assuming foul play.”

  Jack put his hand up. “Yeah, I know. His throat was slashed.”

  “Why was Mr. Portman at your house?”

  Jack decided to be sparing with his words. “Josh was staying with me for a bit. He did that from time to time. We’re like brothers.”

  “Nathaniel Portman is also on your lease?”

  “My grandfather. I didn’t have great credit a few years ago. He’s also—or was—Josh’s grandfather. He’s supposed to be here as well to give a statement, but he hasn’t shown up. I will say . . . it is highly out of character for the old man to be late.”

  “He’s a Seminole chief, correct?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Can you tell me anything that might shed light upon the attack?” She crossed her right leg over her left, lowering her eyebrows.

  “I’m sure you would find this out sooner than later, and you can check with the district attorney: We have been investigating a pornography ring. In fact, we were just returning from Tampa. The police up there used a search warrant to investigate a strip joint owned by our suspects. Now, I can’t substantiate this in any way, but my gut says these bastards might be involved.”

  “Involved in your cousin’s killing?”

  “I’m just telling you what I think. I have no proof.”

  “What would make you think this, Mr. Walker?”

  Jack chose his words carefully. “They made a few threats toward me when we had a little altercation earlier this week.”

  “Why the altercation?”

  “My boss, Peter Robertson, asked us to see if we could get any information out of them. When I mentioned my client’s name, they basically kicked us out of the strip joint, nearly breaking my jaw in the process.”

  “Who’s your client?”

  “Robert Lopez. You’ll be able to check your files. He’s been arrested for possession of child pornography. The DA can confirm everything as well.”

  “I’ll be calling her office. Anything else?”

  “Lopez is missing. I believe he was at a car dealership the other day, where that salesman got wacked. Have a look at the eyewitness accounts. A BMW was spotted leaving the scene, the plate registered to the Russians. Again, check in with the DA. That’s as much as I can tell you.”

  She turned off the recorder. “We’ll be in touch. I would advise you to stop with your own investigation until such time as you are told by the DA to move forward.”

  Jack shook his head. “I still have a fiduciary duty to my client.”

  “That’s fine, Mr. Walker, but I’d advise you to stay away from the Russians.”

  The way she said it made Jack believe she knew more than she was telling him. He kept the thought to himself. “I’ll heed that advice, but I have to follow direction from my boss, Peter Robertson.”

  Detective Stiner sighed. “You’ve been warned, Mr. Walker. I must also state you are a possible suspect in this murder. Conduct yourself accordingly. We’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

  Jack’s pressure rose. “I didn’t murder my cousin.” He gritted down on his last word. “Check with Janie. I was with her all evening.”

  “I’m not saying you did. You’re a lawyer. You know how investigations take place. Anyone who’s been in your house over the past few days is a suspect. Just stating a fact.”

  Jack exhaled. “Okay, I get it. I’m shook over this. Josh was one of my best friends.”

  Stiner nodded. “That will be all, Mr. Walker. If anything else pops up, or you can think of anything, please give me a call.” She handed her card to him. “And if you hear from your grandfather, please have him call me.”

  Jack got up, still woozy. “Will do.”

  ****

  Janie looked at Jack as he drove home from the police station. She put her hand on his leg. “Say, you okay?”

  “Not great. What did you tell them?”

  “I couldn’t lie. I pretty much outlined what’s going on with our case. That’s it.”

  Jack was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I pretty much did the same.”

  Janie squeezed his leg. “Let’s c
all your gramps again and then I think we need a drink.”

  He nodded. “I’m done in. Sounds like a damned good idea.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “CLOTHES OFF, YOU FAT, perverted slob!”

  Solomon had no choice but to subject himself to his jailor’s search. He took off the dress, followed by the pantyhose, jewelry and lastly his wig. It had been a long time since he was last in the can. Will this be the end of Lolita? He had grown used to the cross-dress; in fact, he preferred being Lolita to Solomon . . . if only the tormented thoughts and urges could be purged from his head. He raised his arms, ready for the naked pat-down. He knew the drill.

  Two male guards approached slowly, one carrying a handheld metal detector.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Solomon smiled, flashing his fake Lolita eyelashes.

  Grimacing, one guard proceeded to search Solomon’s various lumps, folds and cavities by hand. Stepping back, he nodded to his partner and the other guard stepped up to run the detector from head to toe. It did not make a sound. Solomon turned around to let him use the detector on his backside. “You’re gonna get some kinda reaction back there from all the metal holding up my discs. I’ve had three spinal surgeries.”

  As promised, the cicada-like sound hummed high and low as the guard moved it up and down the newly-booked prisoner’s back. Solomon turned around smiling. “I told ya!”

  That first night, Solomon awoke in the early hours to the sound of men snoring. The noise kept him awake, but not before he had the dream. It came clear as day: a vision of Gramps, hogtied in a dark place. The old Seminole deserves better! Solomon didn’t get a look at the old man’s captor. He knew it was a singular entity, evil to the core. He shivered.

  He waited till mid-morning to stop one of the guards. A tough-looking man did stop at his cell when Solomon addressed him politely. “Sir, I’m allowed one call. I’d like to use it now.”

  The man nodded. “I’ll talk to the chief.”

  Within half an hour, Solomon stood in his white prison jumpsuit at one of the public phone booths in the rec area. With Jack’s number stored in his memory, Solomon dialed it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  JACK WOKE AS JANIE snuggled up to his left side. After two nights in a row, the occurrence was no longer a one-off. She said before weaseling herself into his bed that she didn’t want to leave him alone after his tragedy. Her soft form next to him was very comforting to say the least.

  He looked at the clock: 9:20 AM. Damn! He’d slept in. Rolling out of her clutches, he slipped into the shower and turned up the heat. The scalding water woke up his senses. He felt like he’d had a bottle of tequila last night, but no, he did not. After toweling off, he walked to the kitchen, picked up his cell and called Gramps. Josh’s death was just starting to sink in, and he felt like royal shit. They’d been part of each other’s lives since birth. While they were not always close, they were both a reliable presence the other could count on.

  “Damn!” The old man either refused to answer the phone, or there was something terribly wrong. Since he’d never known his grandfather to ignore his calls, the latter seemed the only reasonable possibility. As he placed his phone on the counter it rang. Lee County Corrections. Jack cursed under his breath, “What the fuck?”

  Still, he answered. “Jack Walker?”

  “Jackson, this is Lolita.”

  “What? Where you calling from? And why are you calling?”

  “Bit of a story, Jackson. The long and short of it is . . . I’ve been arrested.”

  “Arrested? What? Ya give some bad spiritual advice?” He couldn’t help the jab no matter how bad he felt.

  “Everyone has their demons.”

  As much as he wanted to hang up, there were more coincidences occurring than even he with his reticence could ignore. “I’m listening.”

  “I was picked up shortly after your grandfather dropped me off.”

  “Wait, I haven’t heard from Gramps since last night, which is more than strange. He didn’t show up at the Lee County Sheriff’s Office.”

  There was a long silence before Lolita said, “He told me he was heading to meet you there.” Lolita took a few moments to gather her thoughts. “Now, Jackson, this could be bullshit, but I could swear that someone followed us. A car pulled out from a parking lot next to my house when he left. I thought it strange at the time and I was a bit worried for him.”

  “Shit. This is too weird.”

  Janie appeared at his elbow, her face full of sleep. When she shot him a questioning look, Jack answered, “Lolita.”

  Lolita said, “Jackson! I know you don’t believe what I’ve been telling you, but things are becoming clearer to me—the reasons I feel we are connected. I mean, I think you and your family are in grave danger.”

  “No shit, Lolita. Josh is fucking dead.”

  “Just the beginning, I hate to say. Someone bears a grudge for you, Jackson, with the kind of hate that resonates evil.”

  Jack blurted out, “The pornographers. They got Gramps.”

  “Pornographers?”

  “I’ve been working on a case. I messed with some nasty Russian fuckers up in Tampa. They threatened me.” Jack relayed as much as he could without divulging names and particular circumstances, as all calls from the correction center were recorded.

  Lolita stayed quiet, taking it all in, until she finally said, “This is all very confusing, Jackson. I will tell you, I think I’ve been arrested because of the same people you speak of.”

  Jack felt a hot flash. “You’re tied in with them?”

  “No. Well, I did buy pornography and that’s how I violated my parole.”

  Jack’s head began to spin until he exploded, “What the fuck!” Jack felt as if he were being pulled into a vortex, one which he chose not to believe in and yet had no choice or way to stay clear of, much like five years ago. Panic surged through his veins.

  “I need you to post a bond for my 5,000-dollar bail. It’ll cost you 500.”

  “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “You have no choice. Without me you won’t be able to figure this out. I’ve seen it and you need to believe me.”

  “Like hell. This paranormal bullshit is killing me. I swore I’d try, but this is too much.”

  “Yes, Jackson, it is. Or it will be if you don’t take it seriously. Look, I have one more minute. I’m in the Lee County lockup on Ortiz Boulevard. I’ll give you the money back.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Think too long and you may never see your grandfather again. I’m beginning to like the old man. We have a lot in common. Shame to see him come to the same end as your cousin.”

  Jack thought for a moment. He really didn’t have a choice. “Okay, I’ll talk to my boss. I’m sure he knows a good bond agent. We did this back in law school. I’ll need your name, address and file number.”

  Lolita was ready, reading off the number from a slip of paper she’d been given. “Now, darlin’, I don’t want you to ever call me anything but Lolita; however, my real name is Solomon. Solomon Brown.”

  “What?”

  “That’s all you need to know. I’ll talk to you once you get me out of here. Again, time is of the essence.”

  Jack hung up, his head spinning. Things were no longer under control. His spirit spiraled downward quickly.

  Janie had been trying to get his attention, until finally she poked his arm.

  “Hey, that hurt!” He made a face.

  “You mean Jack Walker the football player is capable of getting hurt by little ol’ me with one finger?” She smiled and did it again. “What’s that all about with Lolita?”

  “I’m not feeling so good. I think I’ve come down with one of those super bugs.” He sat with Janie to replay Lolita’s conversation.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I gotta find Gramps. I can’t see we have any better alternatives. I have to post a bond and get Lolita—Solomon—outta jail
.”

  “So, Lolita’s a he?”

  “It would appear so.” He turned on the barstool at the kitchen island. “I couldn’t get Gramps on the phone. Something is very wrong!”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  GRAMPS WOKE UP. HE’D tried to stay awake, but the pain from his bonds left a dull roar in his head. The blood had long gone from his hands and feet, which were now completely numb. Perhaps because of his age and as best as he could figure, he’d slept most of the night. Who sleeps at a time like this? He blinked a few times until he could keep his eyes open and see. Beams of daylight threaded through cracks in the outside wall. His throat was sore as hell. The old rag stuffed in his mouth and tape covering his lips did not make it easy to swallow. He tried to wiggle his hands and loosen the rope binding them. Mason had been extra cautious and put duct tape over the knot. Nathaniel was not going anywhere.

  A hot flash of understanding woke him from the vestiges of sleepiness. Jackson would think the Russians he had been jousting with were responsible for his disappearance. He would not put two and two together. Why would he? Jackson would figure the Russians killed Josh and, though extreme, it could be plausible. They were not nice. They were people accustomed to killing. His grandson was a magnet for evil people. If the pornographers did not kill him, the Satanist would. He was too headstrong and would jump to conclusions. Jack’s only hope would be Mason luring him here before he confronted the Russians. He wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

  Gramps figured he was being held in the same room Jackson was five years back. He could only imagine the atrocities that occurred in the dark and dank space. He remembered Jackson mentioning rats; he didn’t like rats. Jackson mentioned the girl, Sarah, and how Jimmy McFadden used her as a sex slave, cutting off her hands and feet . . . Nathaniel shivered. She, too, must have been kept there. The horror of Jackson mercifully strangling her, putting her out of her misery, came back to him. Distracted by the horrible thoughts, he missed the sound of a car door slamming on the other side of the building but not the opening and closing of the shop door. Sweat formed on Gramps’ forehead. It was Mason.