5 Highball Exit

by Phyllis Smallman

  The waiter looked startled. He turned to Bernice for help.

  She said, “Bring her a Chardonnay.” Then she ordered the grilled tuna for both of us. She waited until our server left before saying, “Still have your little vice, I see.”

  “What little vice would that be?”

  “Oh, you know what I’m talking about.”

  “Without my little vice I’d have no hobby.”

  “More like no reason to live.” Bernice may have plumped up, but she hadn’t lost her edge.

  “I didn’t come here to discuss my drinking habits.” I looked away from her, trying to get my emotions under control. I couldn’t let her win this soon in our scrimmage.

  “They have karaoke here on Thursday nights,” I said. “I think hell probably comes with karaoke.”

  “Yes, karaoke that only has Barry Manilow songs.” The silver bangles on her arm jangled as she lifted her glass of water. “Your father makes me happy.”

  “Your happiness is not high on my totem pole.”

  I took my first good look at her. Dr. Travis, Jimmy’s father, was a plastic surgeon and his wife had benefited greatly from his profession. I hated to admit it, but she looked ten years younger than the age on her birth certificate.

  She drummed long red talons on the white tablecloth and considered me. She said, “All right, how about this—I make your father happy.”

  “He’s always had low standards.”

  The waiter set two glasses of wine on the table. I picked up my glass and took a very healthy swallow. Alcohol was all that was standing between me and killing the bitch.

  A smug smile teased Bernice’s lips, as if I’d just proven her point. I set the glass down, although I wanted to drain it, and I lockedmy fingers together in my lap. “I thought the thing this year was younger men. There are lots of them around and most of them aren’t too discriminating when you have as much money as you do.”

  “Oh, I tried one,” she said, all playful and pleased, “but he was a disappointment. The sex was great but he insisted on talking.”

  “That can be so annoying. Perhaps you didn’t tip him enough.” We stirred our pot of hate, each adding a little hot pepper ofcruelty and made sure it was still simmering, until at last she leaned forward and said, “Don’t screw this up for me. Play nice and I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “That will be a first!” The waiter came with a basket of rolls. I waited for him to leave before I added, “Regrets are all I ever got from the Travis family.” I wasn’t sipping the Chardonnay anymore.

  Bernice leaned back in her chair. “So why did you keep the name?”

  “Prettier than Jenkins and it gave you a bucketful of pain.” Ipicked up my glass. It was empty. I looked around. Where the hell had the waiter disappeared to? The place was almost empty and there wasn’t a waiter in sight. What did I have to do to get another drink?

  “Why Tully?” I asked, really curious about this. “He’s the kind of guy who gives rednecks a bad name.”

  She pulled away in mock surprise. “Don’t talk about your daddy that way. I’ve convinced him to stop scratching in public.” She smiled. It was a genuine smile, an unnerving sight and not one I was used to seeing on Bernice. “I won’t talk about love, you wouldn’t believe me if I did. I’ve been alone for a long time, alone in a marriage that died well before Jimmy did, but his death finished it.” Again that freaky smile. “I knew there was nothing left the day I walked in on my husband and his new nurse. She’s a lovely girl, very perky and alert. Just like her tits. When I saw them, the tits I mean, I recognized James’s handiwork at once. Implants must be a new employee benefit. The strange thing was I didn’t care anymore.” She picked up her water glass and laughed. “I ran into Tully about an hour later.”

  Too bad she hadn’t run into a semi instead. “Fate plays such cruel tricks.”

  “I wish it had been ten years ago. What a waste being unhappy is.” She cocked her head to the side. “When are you going to start afamily? It’s all your dad talks about.”

  “I’m too busy staying alive to have a kid.”

  “You might like having a little thing living in the house with you.”

  “Fine, I’ll let the mold grow in the shower.”

  “Well, all I’m saying is you’re just about past your sell-by date.”

  “That’s more like it,” I said to her. “I knew the real Bernicecouldn’t stay gone for long.”

  “Well, you know the true me, that’s for sure. You always bring out my best, but you’re pretty quick to stick the blade in as well.” She tipped her water glass towards me in a salute. “Not as skillful as me, of course.”

  “You’re right. I never was in your league. Never could be the bitch you are.”

  Our tuna arrived and I gave up on the second drink. On the way out the door we met two guys coming in. The first guy, short and stocky but dressed for success, took one look at me and said, “Woo, Momma, I think I’m in love.”

  I planted my fist on my hip and asked, “You think you can handle this?”

  “I’m willing to die trying,” he vowed, and he sincerely looked like he meant it.

  When the door closed behind us, I tipped my sunglasses down and said to Bernice, “See, that’s why I dress like this.”

  “Oh,” she said, nodding in understanding. “And here I thought it was because you’re a slut.”

  Down, and playing from well behind, I headed for the truck, digging out my jumble of keys from my bag.

  Bernice called, “And when are you going to get rid of that stupid pickup?”

  I opened the door and threw my bag on the passenger seat. I pointed the ignition key at her. “When you get rid of that ridiculous blonde football helmet you wear.”

  Her right hand started for her hair before she caught herself. Still losing and well behind but picking up points, I wiggled my butt up onto the seat before she thought of a comeback.

  CHAPTER 28

  There’s a big secret that people in the service industry all know. If you really want to dig up the dirt on someone, ask the person who changes their sheets and does their wash. If you want to spy, ask the person who empties their trash and tidies their desk. Never mind their friends. They only know what they’re meant to hear; it’s the people in the service industry who have all the good stuff. I knew a guy working in a bar on Siesta Key who brags he’s got the dirt on everyone of note living in the county.

  My run in with Cal and Ryan had left me trembling. While I hoped I’d seen the last of them, experience said there was more to come. I needed to know all I could about them, needed to know how to protect myself. I headed for the Clam Shack to see Sammy.

  “Holy jumping Judas, be still my aching heart.” Sammy Defino spread his arms wide in welcome. “My dreams have come true at last.”

  “Now don’t go getting my hopes up, Sammy, you know Ilsa won’t let you out at night.” I slid up onto a barstool and dropped my shoulder bag on another one.

  He screwed his face up into mock misery. “It’s true. She’s never been the understanding type.”

  We shared a laugh and commiserated on business before I asked if he knew Ryan Vachess.

  Sammy threw his arms in the air. “Christ, don’t go fucking with that psycho.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with him, far from it.”

  “Then why are you asking?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Those brothers are pond scum, dangerous and nasty guys, and that Ryan is one sick freak.”

  Sammy glanced at a couple of men in suits further down the bar and bent closer to me, whispering, “People they don’t like disappear.”

  “I just want to keep him away from me and I need any information I can get on how to do that.”

  “Then go out to St. Armand’s and
talk to Rob McCabe. His sister got mixed up with Vachess and was never seen again.”

  “Thanks, Sammy.” I slid off the stool. “Why don’t you and Ilsa come down on your night off and I’ll treat you to a meal.”

  “Ah, Sherri, I’d love to, but Ilsa won’t let me near you since I told her you were the girl who taught me to French kiss.”

  “Jesus, Sammy, she can’t hold that against me. I did my best to teach you but I can’t help it if you’re a slow learner.”

  Keys stretch along the west coast of Florida like the backbone of some giant beast rising out of the gulf. Back in the 1920s, John Ringling, the circus guy, bought a group of those keys and today the hottest real estate in all Florida is on those islands.

  I took the John Ringling Causeway over Sarasota Bay to Lido Key, famous for its white sand, as fine as sugar.

  St. Armand’s Circle, where Rob McCabe owned a deli, is the jewel in the crown of Lido Key. Parking on St. Armand’s is a dog-eatdog type of situation with cars going around and around the loop, waiting for a space to open up and blocking traffic when someone is spotted who looks like he might be leaving. The driver parks in the middle of traffic with his blinker on, ignoring the honks of cars jamming up behind him, while a shopper puts things in the trunk. Most times he’s disappointed and the whole thing starts over again, like motorized musical chairs.

  I got lucky and snagged a parking spot on the street nearly in front of the deli.

  The half-dozen tables outside the McCabe Bakery & Deli were all filled with people sharing gossip and coffee. A long line of waiting customers blocked the door and glared at me as I slipped by them. Inside, the display cases were filled with cheesecakes and pastries, a choice of a dozen salads, and any kind of sandwich you could ever dream up.

  There was only one man behind the counter. He was taking orders and slapping sandwiches together without a smile or a word for his customers, like a man who hadn’t had a good day in a long time. In his late thirties, he had thinning, sand-colored hair and two deep vertical furrows between his eyebrows.

  When there was a break in the action I asked him if he was Rob McCabe. He nodded and I told him who I was and why I was there.

  Color came into his cheeks when he heard Ryan Vachess’s name. He stood straighter and his jaw hardened. “Follow me.” He pulled off his white-bibbed apron and threw it from him and then he plunged through a curtained exit without waiting for me.

  I went to the end of the deli case and slipped behind the counter saying, “Excuse me,” to two women who stopped serving and gave me curious looks. I followed Rob through a tiny storage room and out to the alley where the air smelled of the hot pavement and the garbage in the dumpsters.

  I was barely outside when Rob McCabe turned on me, his face contorted with rage and hatred. “That bastard. You’re crazy if you have anything to do with him.”

  I stepped away. “Look, I just want to know how to protect myself from this guy.”

  “Shoot him would be my suggestion.” He pulled a package of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. “Why do you want to know about Vachess?”

  I told him about Holly and then I added, “Now tell me how you know him.”

  “Chloe was my half-sister.” He dragged smoke deep into his lungs. “Two years ago, when she was eighteen and just out of high school and full of beans, she met Ryan Vachess.” He dragged hungrily on the cigarette and then dropped the butt on the pavement, toeing it out even as his hand reached for another one. “Within a month she was living with him.”

  “The last time I saw her she was with Vachess outside a dance club in Tampa and she was high as a kite on something. I tried to drag her into my car. I got arrested and I never saw her again.” He hunched his shoulders and stubbed the pavement with the toe of his shoe.

  “I went to the police. Nothing ever came of it. They said she was an adult and could do as she wanted. The police listed her as a runaway but honest to god she wouldn’t have gone away from us and never gotten in touch. It wasn’t like that; we were a good family. It nearly killed my dad and stepmother.” He wrinkled his face, holding back his feelings.

  “They’re still waiting for her to walk through the door but I know she’s dead.”

  Sorry is too small a word for something like that, so I didn’t offer it. “I’ve tried the police, put up flyers, attempted to track Chloeon the Internet, and none of it was worth rat shit. It’s not knowing, that’s the worst. A couple of times a week I have to watch that bastard walking past the deli, going to lunch down at the Cuban restaurant with another young fool, and there isn’t anything I can do about it.”

  A seagull clattered onto the closed top of a dumpster, walked across the lid and then rose screeching into the air when Rob waved his arm at it.

  “The only thing that keeps me from killing the bastard is the fact that my parents need me. I’m all they’ve got left. They couldn’t stand to lose me too.”

  A delivery van started down the alley and we stepped back inside to get out of its way.

  “Did you know Ryan is using?”

  “He’s more than using. He’s the biggest dealer in town. Painkillers, party drugs, whatever the market wants. A cop told me he’s got people cooking meth for him up and down the gulf coast. Seems they can make meth in the back of vans now and just keep moving from place to place.”

  My chest constricted in panic. “He’s worse than I thought.”

  “The Vachess brothers deal in women and drugs and they havemoney and connections. They’re dangerous,” Rob said. “You be careful.”

  “Trust me, I intend to be.”

  “If you hear anything about our Chloe, will you let me know?”

  “Of course, but it’s unlikely to happen.”

  “I know, but I have to ask. Here . . .” Rob went to a wooden desk, shoved up against boxes of paper napkins. He opened a manila envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. He held it out to me.

  I looked down at a picture of a laughing young woman. Under it was her information and Rob McCabe’s name and telephone number. I wondered where he was going to get the fifty-thousand-dollar reward he was offering.

  “Just in case . . .” He couldn’t finish.

  I guess he still had hope despite what he’d said.

  CHAPTER 29

  Aunt Kay was waiting out in front of the hospital when I pulled up. It must have been a hundred and twenty degrees on the concrete. She was sweating like a cold glass of beer beside a hot grill, but there she stood.

  “Why didn’t you wait inside?”

  “I didn’t know you were going to be so late, did I?” The curb gave her enough height to heft her behind onto the seat without my help, but the exertion left her breathless.

  She didn’t ask about my time with Bernice. Imagine that. Instead she said, “We’re going over to see Marnie Mitchell. I called her while I was hanging around waiting for you. She’s over on Lime.”

  As I waited for a delivery truck to pull out in front of me I said, “What was in that note Holly left behind?”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Curious. Maybe there’s something in it that will tell us where to look for Angel.”

  “No, there wasn’t anything that would help.”

  “So how come you don’t want to tell me what it said?”

  “Don’t go making a big deal of it.”

  “I think you’re the one that’s making it a big deal, turning it into a mystery. Just tell me.”

  Aunt Kay sighed. “All right.” But it took her a while to get the words out. “The note said, ‘because my Angel is gone and I can’t live without my Angel. I have no home and no one to look after me. I have nothing left. This is the only way.’”

  “And you thought . . .” But, I couldn’t put it into words what she thought might h
ave happened to Angel. Aunt Kay nodded. “I think Angel might be dead.”

  A car honked and I jerked the truck back into my own lane. “She said Angel was gone.” The words were almost whispered, asif to say her fears out loud would make them true. “I want to know for sure if Angel is dead and if she is, I want to know why.”

  I could hardly take in what Aunt Kay was saying. “Do you think . . . ?” I took a deep breath and started over. “What do you think happened?”

  “It’s just that . . .” She couldn’t go on. “Why didn’t Marnie Mitchell know about the baby?”

  “If Holly gave up her baby for adoption, she wouldn’t tell anyone, would she?”

  “I hope you’re right.” She sighed. “Holly was never strong.”

  “Can you remember exactly what the note said?”

  She made a noise of disgust. “I’m not likely to forget it, am I?”

  I had ample opportunity to know about Aunt Kay’s amazing memory. In grade seven, she’d caught me out in a forged note from my mother. She knew the handwriting of every parent and every teacher. No one fooled her. The note had to be written by Holly or been a damn good copy or Aunt Kay would know.

  I pulled into a parking space along the street and got an old envelope out of the glove compartment and handed it to her along with a pencil. “Write it down.”

  When she was finished she handed me the note. Despite his confidence, I thought Dan might have made a mistake but what had bothered me about Dan’s copy of Holly’s suicide note was there on Aunt Kay’s—the same strange opening. Why? I stuffed it in my bag so I could compare them. “You must have a reason for thinking Angel is dead.”

  “Holly’s note was filled with such despair.” Aunt Kay rubbed her forehead. “Something awful happened to her and Angel being dead makes as much sense as Holly killing herself.”

  “Well, I think Angel is somewhere safe and I’m going to find her.” I pulled around a semi making a turn. “Holly wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Angel. If Holly didn’t care she would have let the Hunts adopt her baby.”