Chaotic Be Jack

by Robert Tarrant

  We took the elevator to the fourth floor and PJ led the way to a rear unit overlooking the green space and lake. The interior was done in pastels but hadn’t been given over to the beach theme typical of so many places down here. The open kitchen was immediately to the left as we entered. A four-stool counter separated it from the living room that in turn opened to a balcony overlooking the lake. The master suite was on one side of the living area and a second bedroom and separate bath were located on the other side. The condo was not spacious but not cramped.

  PJ asked if I was hungry and I replied, “Famished.” I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything, except the mush at the hospital, since Thursday afternoon, when Moe made sandwiches for us. PJ suggested I take a stool at the counter while she found something for us to eat. She was pleased to note that based on the time shown on the electric clocks, the power had only been interrupted for five hours, so the food in the refrigerator would be fine. Regardless, it couldn’t have been any worse than the mush at the hospital.

  PJ gave me the choice of eating at the dining table or staying at the counter. I opted to stay at the counter. It seemed like it would take the least amount of energy. While we ate grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, PJ asked me about my experiences during the storm. In the beginning it was difficult to recall events in the correct order, the puzzle pieces kept getting jumbled up, but I finally was able to paint a sketchy picture of the events. For some reason, I felt totally comfortable telling her everything that I could recall. Even the parts with Justin stashing the assault rifle he had taken from Mooch and Ty. There have been several occasions in the past when I was less than candid with PJ when it came to Justin, but for some reason I had no reservations today. Maybe it was because she was no longer a cop, or maybe it was because my mind was still struggling in a fog. Or, maybe it was because I was accepting the fact that Justin had died in the cooler. He must have been dead when we were found, otherwise they would have transported him to the hospital with the three of us.

  As I talked, PJ’s face wore a more and more puzzled look. Finally, I realized that she didn’t even know that Justin had returned. That he hadn’t died in the explosion of his boat. I gave her the entire back-story. It was obvious that she was as skeptical of the story as I was, but it really seemed moot now.

  I told her about Owen being swept away and Julia wanting to go out into the storm, so that she could join him. Her walking away from the hospital like she did, without even saying goodbye, made me fear she was again going to attempt to join Owen. PJ said that she would make some calls in the morning and see if she could learn anything about Julia’s whereabouts.

  While still foggy, my mind was clearing some. I suddenly realized how rank I smelled. Other than during my few hours in the hospital, I had been wearing the same clothes the entire time. They had been wet and dry more times than I could remember. Of course they were the only clothes I owned at this present moment. I said to PJ, “I don’t know how you can stand me, I stink.”

  “Now that you have some food in your stomach, I’m going to get you set up in my shower and I’ll throw your clothes in the wash. After you’ve showered, we’ll get you some rest.” I started to say something, but she put her finger against my lips and said, “No arguments, follow me.”

  PJ led me into her ensuite bath and got out soap and shampoo for me. She gave me a new toothbrush and toothpaste from a small basket of samples she said she gets every time she goes to the dentist and told me to leave my clothes on the floor and she would come in and get them while I was in the shower. The attraction of a hot shower stifled any argument left in me. I didn’t even hear her come in and get my clothes.

  After what may have been the longest shower in modern history, I brushed me teeth and wrapped a dry towel around me. Coming out of the steamy bathroom, I found the bed turned down. PJ was giving me her bed? Maybe she was going to share her bed? On so many occasions that had been my fantasy, yet tonight it just didn’t have the same attraction. I just didn’t have the strength. I could hear her on the phone in the other room. It sounded like she was talking to Angela. I thought that I would lie down for just a few minutes while she finished her call. I slipped into the turned-down bed.

  I awoke from my quick nap. The room was nearly totally dark with the blinds and the door closed. A sliver of light was coming from some sort of night light in the bathroom. As the sleep cleared from my mind, I looked around and slowly remembered where I was. The nap had cleared all but a trace of my headache, but I still felt fatigued. The towel I had wrapped around myself after my shower had migrated down to the foot of the bed. I got out of bed and rewrapped the towel. It was then that I noticed my clothes neatly folded on a chair in the bedroom. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. 9:15 a.m. My nap had been close to twelve hours. I dressed quickly and headed out to the kitchen.

  PJ was putting something into the oven as I approached. “Hi there, sleepyhead. You feel better?”

  I yawned and replied, “I do feel better. Much better, thanks.” The aroma of fresh coffee hit me. “Is that coffee I smell?”

  “Yup. Bet you’d like a cup.”

  “I sure would, but I’m surprised you have a coffee maker. You don’t drink coffee.”

  An impish grin brought out her dimples. “Never know when a guy who drinks coffee may stay over.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Of course an attractive and personable woman like PJ would have guys stay over.

  “Jack, I’m kidding. With a teenage daughter living here, I don’t host sleepovers.” She handed me a cup of steaming coffee and poured another for herself. “Besides, I’m trying to learn to like coffee. I’m taking in too many calories with my Cokes.”

  I took a sip of the coffee and said, “I’m sorry I evicted you from your bed last night. I thought I was just going to take a quick nap, but . . .”

  “You didn’t evict me. Angela’s room is a teenage pit, I wasn’t about to sleep in there. We shared my bed. You didn’t even snore.”

  “We slept together?”

  Sadness crossed her face. “You don’t even remember? I thought you were marvelous, by the way.”

  “Ah, well . . .” I was searching my cloudy mind. I remember the bed being turned down in an inviting manner when I got out of the shower. I remember thinking at the time that it was meant as an invitation. That’s when I laid down for my nap, to energize myself for what I hoped would follow. How the hell could I not even remember? I found myself actually squeezing my eyes shut in an effort to restart the movie of last night, but I saw nothing but black.

  PJ laughed and patted me on the cheek. “Relax, Jack, you look like you’re going to blow a mental gasket. I’m just teasing you. The only thing I was looking for last night was for you to get some much needed rest.” Her expression turned serious. “I became very concerned about you when you didn’t show up Thursday afternoon and I couldn’t reach you. Then when I learned about your car and figured you had been trapped in the storm, I was really worried. When I got the call saying four people had been found dead in the cooler, I was absolutely distraught. Then when the call came that said you were actually unconscious, not dead, and taken to the hospital with carbon dioxide poisoning I was . . . well, let’s just say the drive down from Gainesville was made in world record time. I’m so thankful that you’re going to be all right. I can honestly say that the only thing I wanted to do last night was watch you sleep.”

  “Wow, I reached a new low. Women want to sleep with me just to watch me sleep.”

  The impish grin returned as she said, “That was last night, I’m not promising that will hold true once you’ve recovered.”

  Gosh darn, throw me in the briar patch.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Saturday morning we leisurely drank coffee and had a light breakfast. Leisurely was about the only pace I could maintain doing anything at the moment. I offered to help with the dishes, but PJ waved me off, telling me to go into living room and take it easy. I followed her
direction without resistance. I just didn’t seem to have any energy.

  I turned on my cell phone. PJ had found it in my pants pocket when she laundered my clothes and put it on a charger. I was surprised when it acquired a signal from the system. Don’t know why I was surprised, after all PJ was talking to Angela last night on her cell. Maybe my mind isn’t firing on all cylinders quite yet. I had a long list of missed calls, voicemails, and text messages bidding for my attention. I ignored them all and punched in Moe’s number.

  On the fifth ring, a gravely voice said, “Hello, Jack. How ya doing today?”

  “I’m fine, Moe. Well, not really fine, but okay, and getting better all the time. How ‘bout you? You still in the hospital?”

  “Naw, I’m at home. I raised enough ruckus this morning that they released me. They wanted me to stay longer, something about carbon dioxide poisoning coupled with the mild concussion I’d suffered, but I told them that the cheap ass insurance I have at work wouldn’t pay for my stay. That seemed to persuade them.”

  “That’s not true. Our insurance pays for hospitalization. I’m sure it’ll cover this, for God’s sake.”

  I think he tried to laugh, but it came out more as a stifled cough. “Just shitting you, Jack. I know it’ll pay, well I hope it’ll pay, I just thought they wouldn’t be as anxious to keep me if they thought they’d have trouble collecting their outrageous fees. Worked.” Another abbreviated cough. “Where are you? They said you weren’t even admitted. Where did you go anyway? I don’t think your apartment is exactly inhabitable.”

  My last image of Cap’s Place crossed my mind. “No, don’t think it is. I’m at PJ’s. She picked me up at the hospital and brought me here last night.”

  There was a long pause and then, “Well, it took a damn hurricane, but you two finally got together. Good deal. How are things in that area of the city?”

  “You’d hardly know that we had more than a heavy rainstorm. We’re west of 95. There’s not much damage at all. How about around you?”

  “Worse than that, but nothing like around Cap’s. My power is back on. Several streets are still nearly blocked by debris or water, but things are moving in the right direction. You haven’t been back to Cap’s, have you?”

  “Naw, PJ checked a little while ago, but they aren’t even letting property owners into the area yet. I guess they’re making one last sweep looking for bodies before they begin letting us in to assess things. I don’t think I’m even going to consider it until tomorrow.”

  I could hear Moe exhale deeply over the phone. “Hey, Boss, if you’re going to Cap’s, could you give me a call, maybe I could go with you?”

  “Sure, no problem. When we find out we can get into the area, I’ll give you a call.” On the other side of the room PJ was pantomiming her driving a car. “We can probably pick you up.” She nodded yes, vigorously.

  “Yeah, that’d be great. I think my car is probably still at Cap’s Place, unless it washed away.” He paused but then said, “Hey, have you talked to Marge yet?”

  “No. She’s my next call.”

  “Well, Boss, I would suggest that you call her as soon as possible. I talked to her this morning and told her that you’d been released from the hospital and that I thought you were going to be all right. She’s really spinning around because she hasn’t heard from you. Everyone’s been calling her and she’s got nothing to tell them. You think Hurricane Ella kicked our asses, that’s nothing compared to Tornado Marge.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle as I envisioned Marge spinning around like a whirling dervish. “I’ll call her right away. Thanks.”

  “Better call Dana, too. It would be a shame for you to survive the hurricane only to be killed by your head bartender. Marge is a lot of bluster, but Dana’s downright dangerous.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya. I’ve got a long list of people to call. I’ll get on it. You take care of yourself. Hey, before you go . . . “ I asked Moe if he knew anything about Julia or Justin, but he didn’t have any more information than I did. Julia left the hospital from the emergency room and Justin was never transported.

  Hearing me talking about Justin prompted PJ to make a couple of calls of her own. A few minutes later she told me that when the S.W.A.T. officers first entered the cooler they thought all four of us were dead. We were all more or less on our knees, slumped over the back shelf with our heads facing the wall. At first they thought we had been shot execution style. It was only as they began to examine us that they realized we were still alive. The introduction of the additional oxygen from their breech of the door seemed to begin the process of reviving us. After they removed us from the cooler, they discovered a small hole in the back wall that had allowed some fresh air into the cooler. Evidently, Justin and I had been able to break through. In the time it took to have ambulances respond, we all regained consciousness. It was the intent of the responders to have all four of us transported to the hospital, two in each EMS rig. Evidently, during the loading process Justin disappeared. No one had any idea how he did it or where he went. Of course they didn’t, it’s Justin. The bad part is that in the parking lot they found the vehicle used in an armored truck robbery where both guards were murdered and they surmised that Justin was one of the robbers. His description is all over the city as a suspect.

  I retold the story about Ty and Mooch to PJ, including the details about their weapons and bag of money. She made several more calls and finally reached the lead detective on the case. She explained the situation three times before shaking her head that he seemed to be accepting what she was telling him. The call ended with her agreeing for us to meet the detective, so that I could tell him the entire story in detail. The last thing I felt like doing was going out to meet with a detective, but I also didn’t want some cop to run across Justin thinking he was wanted for robbery and murder. That might not come out well for either party.

  My mind was clearing more and more but still felt like it was operating at half speed. Like you feel when you have been sleep deprived. Okay, but not sharp. I mentioned this to PJ and she suggested that I write down my recollections regarding Ty and Mooch. I thought that sounded like a good way for me to better organize my thoughts. By the time I finished my third draft, I felt pretty confident that I hadn’t omitted anything of significance.

  The agreement had been to meet the detective at a coffee shop near PJ’s condo. The entire encounter didn’t take over thirty minutes. Partly because I came with instant credibility in the company of PJ, who he had worked several cases with in the past, and partly because he was so busy with an overflowing caseload. At least that was my assessment. The only sticky part of the entire meeting was when he asked me Justin’s full name and I had to admit that I had no idea what his last name was. Considering the length of time I’ve known Justin, both the detective and PJ seemed to be skeptical of my answer. I didn’t bother to tell them that I didn’t even believe that his first name was really Justin. It seemed like that might open a can of worms better left sealed. At the end of our meeting, the detective told us he would recall the bulletin that listed Justin as a robbery-homicide suspect. That was a relief.

  Before we drove back to her condo, PJ called to check and see if we could get access to the area of Cap’s Place and was told that tomorrow morning would be the earliest. That was actually fine with me as I didn’t really feel like facing what I knew was going to be difficult on several levels. As we were pulling into her condo complex, she looked at me and asked, “So, who is this Justin character anyway?”

  The question caught me off guard, and I stammered, “What . . . what do you mean, who is he?”

  She seemed to slip into her cop persona as she said, “Well, I’ve seen him around Cap’s a few times. Sissy used to mention him when she worked there. She thought he was some type of ex-military but said he never talked about it. She said he would drop out of sight for days or weeks and that everyone thought he was a drunk who periodically fell off the wagon, but she wasn’t buying
it. She also told me that he had helped you protect her when her life was in danger a couple years back. Then this whole thing about his boat blowing up, but miraculously he wasn’t aboard and didn’t even know about it for months. Suddenly he reappears out of nowhere. Sounds like a spook to me.”

  “A spook? You mean a spy?”

  Her expression told me that she didn’t appreciate my feigned naivety. My clearing mind was processing as much information as possible, as quickly as it could function in its present state. There are things I’m aware of that Justin has done that PJ would feel compelled to see pursued. At least I was afraid that would be her reaction. Yet, Justin’s actions had saved Sissy’s life on one occasion and mine on another, to say nothing of the hell from which he protected Julia. There was no way that I was going to become the cause of problems for him. Yet, my relationship with PJ had moved to a new level, at least I hoped it had, and I didn’t feel right not being open and honest with her. Finally, I decided to be candid about my assessment of Justin, but not talk about any of his past deeds.

  I said, “I think he is some type of mercenary. One of those off the books guys that our government uses to do things the bureaucrats and politicians don’t want connected to them. My guess, and it is a guess, is that the boat explosion was intended to end the story of Justin, but that for some reason he decided to come back here and resume that identity. Why? I have no idea. He says he’s retiring from his former life, whatever that life was. I don’t know. Only time will tell. All I can say for certain is that he’s always been on my side and for that I’ve been thankful more than once.”