Home Goes The Warrior

by Jeff Noonan

  “I’m in a blue Ford Fairlane. See you there.”

  The two hung up. Lee had a world of questions, but this wasn’t the time.

  Leaving the shipyard, Lee was soon on I-95, headed south toward the rendezvous. The more he thought about it, the more he worried. Why is Tom driving all the way up from D. C. just to talk to me? This was getting a little scary.

  It didn’t take long for the Mustang’s big engine to get him to the Chester exit. Carefully he threaded his way through the Widener campus, relying on ancient memories to find his way. Soon he was on Route 352 to Media, and he started watching for Tom. It didn’t take long. Tom had pulled up in front of a little mom and pop grocery store and was standing beside his car. Lee pulled in behind him. Tom came over and got in on the passenger side.

  Tom held out his hand to Lee, saying, “Hello, my friend. How’s life in the shipyard?” Lee took the hand and smiled. “Just hunky-dory, you asshole. Why’re you up here scaring me out of my shorts? Is anything wrong?”

  “No, Lee. I was afraid you’d worry when I called. That’s why I waited until I was almost up here before I pulled over and found a phone booth. No, I’m just here to let you know what we’ve found out about the two guys who were killed outside the shipyard. Once I’ve briefed you, I’m going home for the weekend.”

  Lee breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Great. I have to admit, I was worried. So, what’s the story on those guys?”

  “Well, that first guy, Bernie Shapiro, who was shot. He was definitely killed somewhere else and then dumped in South Philly. It actually looks like he was killed by a 30-06 rifle slug, fired from a distance. There were no powder burns on him and the ballistics came back showing the bullet that killed him coming from a 30-06 hunting rifle. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard of a rifle like that being used in an urban killing. There is no way your godfather’s people use a gun like this. This guy was killed somewhere else, at long range. Then his body was scooped up and hauled to South Philly, probably hoping that the cops would just write it off as another mob hit. But it’s not. No way!”

  Lee had listened silently. Now he asked, “Is there anything on him that would reveal his whereabouts that day? Or any relatives or friends who know where he was supposed to be when he was killed?”

  “Nope. Dead ends all around. He was dressed in slacks and a shirt with a tie. Those were his normal work clothes. His family all thought he was at work. He had gone to work that day, even worked some overtime. But he’d clocked out at about six, so no one is sure where he was when he was killed.”

  “Okay. What about the guy who got his throat slit in Camden?”

  “Another very similar story. His name was George Carter. He definitely died from a slit throat. But he didn’t die in Camden. He was killed somewhere else and then brought to Camden in the passenger seat of his car. When he got to where they left him, they moved him into the driver’s seat, locked the car, and left him. The blood trail in the car told our forensics team the story. Also, there’s no blood spray in the car. That tells us that he wasn’t in the car when his throat was sliced. Oh yeah, it wasn’t a hooker who did this. His wallet was in his pocket, his watch was on his wrist, his dick was in his pants, and the car was locked. So we ruled out any possibility of this being a streetwalker’s handiwork.”

  Lee nodded soberly, absorbing this. “Tom, I think the drydock guy was murdered also.” When Tom’s eyebrows shot up, Lee told him about the drydock railing and walkway, emphasizing the impossibility of this man getting across all of the physical obstructions without help. “I think he was thrown over the side of that dock. The report says he had massive head injuries, so it’s possible that he was unconscious or dead before he was thrown. But he didn’t get from the top to where he landed without help.”

  This seemed to startle Tom. “Lee, what in hell are we dealing with here? This started out as a simple little ‘possible embezzlement’ case. Now it’s looking like a truly big deal. A well-organized, deadly big deal. But what is it?”

  “Damned if I know. Captain Jones has me going to visit different shipyard departments next week for indoctrination. I’ll see what I find out. But I’m really glad that you let me know about this. Now I know that I have to be prepared for anything. I think I’m going to start wearing that handgun in the ankle holster you gave me. I thought that it was overkill, so I’ve been leaving it in my BOQ room.”

  “Dammit, Lee. I told you to keep it on you! It’s never smart to underestimate the assholes that you may meet in this line of work! Stay armed from now on!”

  “Got it boss. You’re right.” The conversation turned to more routine topics as Tom asked more questions about Lee’s first week in the shipyard. After a few minutes, Tom left for home and Lee headed northwest toward his uncle’s office.

  Soon the car was out of the urban area and into tree-lined suburbia. The homes were spaced farther apart, and there were occasional fields, often with horses grazing in them. It was fairly level, but several times Lee encountered the rolling hills he remembered from his youth. Somehow it just seemed right. Maybe he had finally come home.

  As he drew closer to Media, he passed a big school. The sign said “Strath Haven School, Wallingford-Swarthmore Public School District.” He remembered this place. He knew that it included a middle school and a high school. It looked like a grade school was there also. He remembered playing sports against this high school when he was a teenager, and he remembered his father saying that it was a great school. Maybe this was an area worth looking at, he thought. Suddenly he started laughing aloud. The irony of it all had just struck him. He was a single guy with a girl friend and here he was looking at school systems. He would have to tell Maggie about this. Or maybe not. At least not yet. He laughed again. Suddenly, life was good. He drove on.

  It was only a couple of miles later that he found himself in Media. He pulled over to get his bearings, but he simply couldn’t remember how to find his uncle’s office. Spotting a motel, the Media Inn, across the street, he flipped a U-turn into its parking lot and went inside. Seeing a pay phone in the lobby, he looked up Uncle Mike’s firm in the yellow pages and jotted down the address. Then he asked the friendly desk clerk for directions, and was soon on his way again. Within minutes, he was pulling up in front of an office building on the outskirts of town. A small sign beside the door proclaimed this to be the offices of “Hare, Guite, and Vallo, Public Accountants.” He was at the right place.

  As soon as he entered the building, he found himself in a small reception room guarded by an attractive middle-aged woman who was wearing a large pair of earphones and industriously pounding on an electric typewriter. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t see Lee until he was right in front of her desk. Suddenly she looked up, mouthing a startled “Oh, shit!” Then, recovering instantly, she turned a bright red color and stammered out an attempted apology. Lee was already laughing aloud at the situation, and that seemed to embarrass her even more. Finally she pulled herself together and addressed him in her best official and stern tone. “I am very sorry sir. May I help you?”

  Lee, still smiling broadly answered with, “Yes ma’am. I’m looking for my uncle, Mike Hare. Is he available?”

  Her demeanor seemed to soften, and she looked concerned. “I’m sorry. Mr. Hare retired a few months ago and moved to someplace in Florida. Boca Raton, I think.”

  This surprised Lee. The last time he had seen his uncle, Mike had been an active man in his late forties. Lee still thought of him that way, although when he thought seriously about it, he realized how wrong he was. Uncle Mike must be in his sixties now.

  Still smiling, he looked at the woman behind the desk and said, “My turn. Oh, shit!” She actually smiled at this. He thought for a minute before continuing, “Mike had a partner that I remember. I think his name was Guite, Joe Guite. Would it be possible to see him, or has he retired too?”

  “No. He’s here. Just a minute and I’ll get him for you.” With that she ca
lled for Mr. Guite on an office intercom.

  Joe came through a door beside the receptionist soon after being paged. He was a lanky, bearded man with longish hair who seemed to somehow slouch when he walked. Lee had always thought of him as a bit of a hippie, but he was well-known to be a very sharp accountant.

  He took one look at Lee, who was still wearing his khaki uniform, and held out his hand to shake. “Let me guess. You must be Lee Raines. You look a little bit like a bratty teen-ager I knew a lifetime ago. Am I right?”

  Lee grinned at him and said, “Yeah.” He was suddenly at a loss for words.

  But Joe took up the slack, talking in a rapid-fire manner that Lee suddenly remembered. “Sorry that Mike ain’t here. He tried to call you when he retired, but you were overseas somewhere, so he just dropped it. I was planning to send you his address and all that when we do your taxes at the end of the year. But we don’t have to wait for that now, do we? C’mon back with me, and I’ll bring you up to speed. Can we get you some coffee or anything?” Lee declined the coffee and followed Joe back into the bowels of the office building.

  Arriving at a large office, the entrance of which was guarded by another woman with a typewriter, the two entered. As he passed the secretary, Joe spoke to her. “Please get me the files for Lee Raines, would you? There should be a financial file and a real estate file.”

  Taking seats in the office, the two exchanged small talk, and Joe brought Lee up to date on his uncle and aunt. Apparently they had done well in life and had, in Joe’s words, “decided to quit while they were ahead and enjoy life while they were able to do so.” Lee had recovered from his surprise at Uncle Mike’s retirement, and he smiled at that thought. He was genuinely happy for Mike. Joe wrote down Mike’s new address and telephone number. Lee noticed that the receptionist had been wrong. The address was on Sanibel Island in Florida. He wondered idly where that was, but he didn’t have time to ask before the secretary returned with some thick file folders.

  “Lee, the instructions that Mike left, and I agreed to, were for us to manage your home and your accounts free of any fees until you came to take them off our hands. Mike always had confidence that you would come around one day and want to do something with the assets you own. So we’ve been doing that with your finances. The real estate is being managed by the same company we’ve been using every since you left. They do charge us a ten percent fee, plus repair costs, for managing the property. That’s about the only money we’ve ever deducted from your account.”

  At that point, Lee interrupted the accountant. “Joe, you don’t have to explain all of that. I’m really not overly interested in any of this. I just came out here today to see Uncle Mike. I’ve just been transferred to the Philadelphia Navy Yard, so I was going to say hello. Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about all of this stuff.”

  He paused then, but seeing the confused look on Joe’s face, he continued, “I guess we should look it over. Eventually I intend to give it to a charity or something. I haven’t really thought about it. But, in the meantime, you should be getting paid for the work you do. Let’s go over it, and then we can make some kind of an arrangement.”

  That seemed to relax Joe and clear the confused look off his face. He wasn’t used to his customers taking such a cavalier attitude toward their money. An attitude like this just didn’t compute in Joe’s world.

  “Okay, Lee. Here it is. First the house. It’s managed by one of the better property management companies in Delaware County. The renter has been there for almost ten years now and would probably be willing to buy it if it were offered for sale. The rent has gone up to a present rate of $2,500 per month. From that we deduct the management firm’s fees, any repair and maintenance costs, and the cost of the climate-controlled storage that your family’s furniture and other belongings are in. This leaves, on the average, about $24,000 per year that we deposit into your operating account at the local bank. Any questions on the house?”

  Lee’s jaw had dropped open. “Wow! That’s almost more than my annual salary. I had no idea.” His voice trailed off.

  Joe smiled. “I had a feeling that you didn’t understand the extent of all of this. Are you ready for the financial side of things?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Okay, Lee. Hold onto your hat. When your parents died, they were worth about a half million in cash and stocks. There was also a million-dollar life insurance policy. When you took off, you left Mike in charge of that money and he did one hell of a good job of investing it. Today, Mr. Sailor-Man. you are worth, in cash and stocks, somewhere between five and six million dollars, depending on the fluctuations of the markets. The house will bring at least another three or four hundred thousand.”

  He stopped talking, startled at the look of astonishment on Lee’s face. When Joe spoke again, it was with a soft question. “You had no idea, did you?”

  Lee shook his head in answer, but it was a long time before he broke the silence. Even then it was only to say, “Holy shit!”

  Finally Joe, smiling broadly, spoke. “I just wish Mike was here to see the look on your face. It would be all he would ever want for babysitting this stuff all these years. I’m going to let him know about this.”

  Lee finally got control of himself. He had never gone through such a whirlwind of emotions. The thought of his uncle selflessly working on his behalf all these years almost brought him to tears. At the same time, he was astonished at the dollar amounts being discussed. He had never thought of his parents as being particularly well-off. They had a big home, but it was in line with the homes of his friends, so it hadn’t stood out. He had known that his father was a successful lawyer, but that hadn’t, in his mind, translated into any special wealth. He had absolutely no idea about this. My god! What will Maggie think? I hope she understands that I didn’t lie to her about any of this! That thought scared him suddenly. Shaking his head to clear his scrambled thoughts, he again focused on Joe.

  “Are you sure about this?” Joe just nodded, still smiling. Lee thought some more. “How about Mike? Is he financially okay? Can I do something for him with this?”

  “No Lee. That’s a nice thought, but the Hare family has far more money than you do. Mike’s been a genius at picking start-up companies, investing in them, and then holding onto the investments until they panned out. He invested his money, and yours, in businesses like Wal-Mart way back when they were struggling little companies. Then he sat on those investments, sometimes for years. In fact, if you look at your stock portfolio, I think you will still find a bunch of Wal-Mart stock in it. No, he has no need of your money.”

  “Wow!” That was all that Lee could think to say. Then, looking at Joe, he smiled a wry smile. “I’ve been so proud of myself. I saved my combat pay and a lot of my earnings over the years, and I have a savings account with about $35,000 in it. Doesn’t stack too high beside all this, does it?”

  The older man’s face took on a very serious look and he leaned forward over the desk, speaking earnestly and sincerely. “Lee, take some advice from me. You’re doing just fine from the sound of it. Don’t go crazy now. This money can set here forever, or until you find a real need for it. I’ve seen too many people get an inheritance, or hit the lottery, and then lose perspective and waste it all. If I were you, I’d continue to live life just as I did before I knew about this. Then, one day, you’ll see a need that this can help with. At that point, you can start using it. Maybe someday you’ll want to study overseas, or start a business, or fund a worthwhile charity, or retire to Sanibel Island with Mike, or any of a million possibilities. If you’ve been wise, you’ll have the ability to do what you want to do, when you want to do it. But live life as it comes. Don’t jump out and suddenly become a big man on campus, if you know what I mean.”

  Lee suddenly remembered that he’d liked this man when he had known him eons ago. He was telling him the truth, and Lee understood what he was saying. Lee nodded. “Okay, Mr. Guite, I agree with you. Let’s make a pl
an right now. Here are my thoughts. First, let’s go ahead and sell the house if the renter wants it. We can roll whatever we make out of it in with the other money in the financial accounts. Second, let’s let the money stay under your management just as it’s been in the past. But there is one change that I will insist on. Your company is to take a management fee on any profits that the money generates. Is a tenpercent fee reasonable?”

  Joe nodded and Lee continued. “As far as the furniture and household effects go, let’s leave them in storage for now. My fiancé is coming out here in a month or two and we’ll go through this stuff together. I’ll probably give most of it to charities, but there may be some things that we’ll keep. What else do we need to think about?”

  Joe leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “That’s about it. I think you’re doing the right thing here. I’ll contact a realtor to take care of the house sale and I’ll draw up papers for the financial management stuff. You’ll have to sign the realtor’s papers and all of that business. I’ll do my best for you.”

  “Joe, I know you will. I’m not even a little bit worried about any of this - and that’s because you’re involved. Thank you.”

  A serious Joe looked back at him. “Lee, we all worried a lot about you when you disappeared way back when. Then we worried again when you got shot up overseas. But maybe it was all for the best. You’ve grown up and become a good man, in spite of what you’ve been through. Welcome home, kid.”

  Tears were burning the back of Lee’s eyelids. He held them back, giving Joe a lopsided grin that told Joe all he needed to know about how this young man was feeling right then. Simultaneously, the two men reached out and their hands met, grasping one another in a strong handshake, a gesture of unspoken friendship and respect.

  As Lee made his way out of the office and back to his car, he noticed a huge man in a sport coat and slacks standing across the street. The man looked vaguely familiar, but Lee couldn’t place him. The man wandered off, walking leisurely down the street, and Lee soon forgot him.