No Joke

by Bill Noel

Cal said he couldn’t have that.

  Janice wasn’t high on my list of suspects since she would’ve been the least likely candidate to have put the credit card in Wallace’s room. She had now all but fallen off the list after hearing what Cal had shared about Horace. Where did that leave me?

  I listened to Freddy Fender sing “Before the Next Teardrop Falls” then headed home. I had learned a couple of things. My number one question still hadn’t been answered.

  Chapter Forty

  Theo had been in Cal’s during the comedians’ visit to the bar, when they had asked its owner if they could perform, plus when the conversation turned to the identity of the body found at the beach. A morning walk to his house would give me some much-needed exercise, a chance to breathe the fresh morning air, and with luck, get the answer to the question that had been nagging me for the last twenty-four hours.

  It was almost 9:00 in the morning and, according to Theo, the middle of the night for his houseguests, so I was surprised that the Lincoln wasn’t in the drive. Theo’s Mercedes was there, so I rang the doorbell. It took a long time for anyone to answer, and I was beginning to think that Theo had left with the comedians. I turned to leave when he opened the door.

  He rubbed his eyes and was moving slower than his normal slow pace.

  “Is this a bad time?” I asked.

  “No, come on in. Had a late night. The guys are shook about Wallace.”

  I followed him to the kitchen and was quick to accept his offer of coffee.

  We each got a cup, and he pointed at the table.

  I sat, sipped coffee, and said, “Are they gone? Their car wasn’t here.”

  “Sal was up early, early for the guys, and said he was so traumatized by Wallace’s situation that he needed to go for a drive. He asked if I wanted to go. I declined. I couldn’t see an upside to being stuck in a car with my upset brother.”

  “Where was he going?”

  “I don’t know. When I asked him, he said the same thing.

  “Did Pete go with him?”

  “He’s upstairs sawing logs.”

  “Have you heard anything about Wallace?”

  “Sal called the hospital, but they wouldn’t tell him anything. They referred him to the Sheriff’s Office. He didn’t figure he could get anything out of them and decided to wait for the police, or Wallace’s attorney to call.”

  “Think Sal went to the hospital to see Wallace?”

  “No, the hospital told him yesterday that no one would be allowed in. It’s nice that you stopped by, although something tells me it’s not for coffee.”

  “I have a question. Remember the first night you brought your houseguests to Cal’s?”

  “When Wallace and Pete tried to snooker Cal into letting people smoke in his bar? The only smoke I saw was coming out of Cal’s ears as he lambasted them for trying to change his rules.”

  I smiled. “That’s the night.”

  “What’s the question?”

  I asked the same thing I asked Cal and got the same answer. Theo didn’t remember who among his group said anything about the bookie. He did remember how shocked Cal had been when I told him the identity of the body, but that was all.

  I got a refill on my drink, then said, “You don’t sound happy about your guests.”

  “Chris, I’ve been hospitable. I’ve given them room and board, paid for all sorts of stuff they claim to need, and listened to their jokes, banter, moaning and groaning.” He held his thumb and forefinger three inches apart. “I’m about this close to telling them that they’ve overstayed their welcome. I hate to be rude, but I’m surprised that my brother thought he could bring his friends here and expect me to be their den mother and bank.” He stood, walked to the window, and looked out before returning to the chair. “Am I being unfair?”

  “You’ve been more than generous.”

  “The worse thing is their sniping. You’d think they can’t stand each other.” He hesitated. “Maybe they can’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember when Ray stormed out of Cal’s the first time they performed there?”

  “When Wallace was joking about something Ray did when he was young?”

  “Yeah, I thought that was what it was about, but the guys had been bitching at each other all night. Then Pete said something about the stupid joke, Ray nearly hit him and said something like, ‘At least all he kills is the audience.’ That’s one example. Here’s another, last night, after poor Wallace was hauled out, Sal said he got what he deserved. Gee, Chris, those guys are supposed to be friends.”

  “It sounds like they’re getting on each other’s nerves as much as they’re bothering you.”

  “What can I do about it? I can’t throw my brother out; the others don’t have anywhere to go.”

  I heard someone clomping down the stairs. “What’s all the racket down here?” Pete said as he came in the kitchen.

  Theo glared at him. “If it’s okay with you, my friend and I are having a peaceful conversation.”

  I had never heard Theo that sharp with anyone. He was right about his houseguests getting to him.

  “Well excuse me, Mr. Touchy. Hi, Chris, sorry to interrupt.”

  Pete nodded my direction. “Did you hear that, after Theo’s honeymoon, he said he felt like a new man? So did his wife.”

  Theo’s wife had died six months after moving to Folly, so I wanted to tell Theo that I’d help him pack their stuff. Instead, I frowned as Pete laughed at his inappropriate, untimely joke.

  Pete poured a cup of coffee and said, “If you guys can get along without me, I’ll take this upstairs.”

  Neither of us responded.

  “I rest my case.” Theo said after Pete was gone.

  Instead of heading home after leaving Theo’s, I went to the Dog for a late breakfast. The restaurant was packed, with a handful of customers waiting around the front door for a table. I didn’t want to hog too much real estate, so I told the hostess I’d be okay sitting at the bar, where there was a short wait before a seat became available. Zack, one of the managers, asked if I wanted coffee. I declined. Amber wasn’t around to scold me, so I said French toast was all I needed. I was watching the cooks do their thing on the other side of the food pass-through, when I felt a tap on the shoulder.

  I turned to see Chief LaMond grin before she said, “Thought that was the back of your bald head.”

  I returned her smile. “Why don’t you go ahead and say fat, old, and ugly while you’re at it?”

  “Now Chris, don’t be hard on yourself. You’re not that ugly.”

  I realized that insults from my friends were ways they showed that they cared. I then wondered if it was true of Theo’s houseguests.

  Cindy inched closer and nudged the man sitting to my right. He scooted his plate over and offered her his seat. She thanked him for his act of chivalry, which I suspected was more because she was chief. Either way, it worked.

  “Any update on Wallace?”

  Zack asked if she wanted anything. She said she’s already had seventy-three cups of coffee this morning and better not add any more.

  She leaned closer to me. “Detective Callahan called to say that Wallace was worse last night than he’d been since we hauled him in. As you know, that was already bad.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “Callahan said that, every time someone looks the poor guy’s way, he cracks a joke.” She hesitated, and continued, “Well, he cracks part of a joke. Either the punchline is unrelated to the first part, or doesn’t make a whit of sense. Callahan said the hospital staff isn’t in stitches.”

  Convenient, I thought. “Do they think he’s faking?”

  “Callahan said that the head docs will need time to come to a definitive diagnosis.” She retrieved a notebook from her rear pocket and flipped through a few pages. “They were throwing out terms like dissociative identity disorder, schizophrenia, dissociative amnesia, and other psychobabble that to this lowly cop meant n
utzoid. None of the docs have bandied about the word faker.”

  I was more confused than before. Even if one of those diagnoses was accurate, whether he knew what he was doing or not, he could have killed Michael.

  “Chris, I’d love to stay and carry on an intellectual conversation about various psychiatric nomenclatures and taxonomies. Instead, I’ve got a meeting with one of my nutty officers who’d rather hand out tickets to vacationers whose cars have their tires an inch on the pavement than stopping people driving thirty miles an hour over the speed limit on Arctic.”

  I smiled. “Nomenclatures and taxonomies?”

  Cindy elbowed me and said, “And you thought I was just another pretty face.”

  She hopped up and was gone before I could tell her that I was impressed, impressed with her vocabulary as well as her pretty face.

  Chapter Forty-One

  I was at Bert’s the next day, grabbing an early-morning cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll, when Charles called to ask if I was up for a walk. We often took strolls around the island, but my friend seldom called this early to suggest one. I agreed to meet him in front of City Hall.

  Charles would’ve been hard to miss. He was standing in front of the salmon-colored seat of local government and wearing a gold long-sleeve T-shirt with Grambling State University in black letters on the chest, and orange shorts that went as well with the T-shirt as would a flute in a rap band. His head was covered with a more traditional canvas, Tilley, with his feet covered with green-trimmed tennis shoes.

  I chose not to mention his fashion statement, or maybe his getting dressed in the dark. Instead, I asked, “What direction?”

  He waved in the direction of the Folly Pier. “The Pier or bust.”

  The two-block walk didn’t rate or bust. I was pleased with what appeared to be a good mood from the man who hadn’t exhibited many lately. “Lead on.”

  We crossed Cooper and waited for the traffic light to turn red before crossing Ashley. After another block, we were standing at the steps leading up to the structure and Pier 101 restaurant. Charles hadn’t said more than a dozen words during the walk. The only words out of his mouth were when he carried on a brief conversation with a Dalmatian that was escorting its owner past us on the sidewalk. If Charles ever failed to talk to a passing canine, I’d know he was close to being committed.

  The walk was a wise, albeit silent, choice. The sky was cloudless, the temperature a perfect, seventy-two degrees. We were far from the only people taking advantage of the weather. The Pier was more crowded than I’d seen in months. Groups of vacationers, apparent from chalky-white skin and resort clothing, competed for space with fishermen who lined sections of the railings. A couple with a man in a wheelchair and the woman walking along beside him, maneuvered around groups. They appeared to be enjoying the view, as well as the Pier’s level surface.

  Charles suggested that we go to the two story, diamond-shaped structure at the end.

  We found a vacant picnic table shaded by the second-story roof, where he gazed at the beach and the Tides. He didn’t speak for a long time. There was something on his mind, and I didn’t want to give him an excuse not to tell me. I remained silent.

  Charles leaned toward me but continued to gaze at the shore. “Remember when we first met?”

  “Of course.”

  He smiled but didn’t turn from looking at the hotel. “I had to spend a lot of time teaching you everything Folly. You were like a lost puppy in the middle of I-26.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “This isn’t the spot where you argue,” he interrupted. “Hear me out.”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t know what I saw in you. You were a stiff, prim and proper bureaucrat, whose sense of adventure was ordering onion rings instead of French fries. Anyway, I suppose my superhuman wisdom saw potential to turn that old you into a true Folly person.”

  “I think you—”

  He waved his Tilley in my face. “What part of ‘hear me out’ befuddled you?”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or apologize, so I stared at him.

  “The point is that you gave me purpose, a challenge, something to do that was bigger than thinking about myself. You stumbled on a murder and, without my help, I’d be sitting here today talking to your ghost.”

  That wasn’t how I remembered it.

  “You opened the photo gallery and hired me—never paid me but hired me—to help run it. That was another challenge that I, if I say so myself, met with flying colors. I don’t need to mention the close scrapes we’ve found ourselves in. Some gave me purpose, some gave me ulcers. Along came Heather, who gave me a chance at love, something that I never thought would happen.”

  He hesitated and looked down at the wooden deck, shook his head, and looked at me for the first time. “Franklin Roosevelt said, ‘Be sincere, be brief, be seated.’”

  Too late, I thought.

  “Bottom line is that I’m rudderless, and don’t know what to do about it.”

  He seldom admitted shortcomings. I had to think before responding.

  “Charles, you’re a wonderful person. You’re liked by everyone you meet. Those who know you best love you. You’ve helped countless people. You’ve saved lives. How many people can say that?”

  “History,” he interrupted. “That’s all history, some ancient, some recent. Still history.”

  I didn’t want to get in a philosophic discussion about everything that all of us have accomplished is history. “Charles, that’s true of all of us. You’ve led, you’re leading, a good life, you’ve meant much to so many, and the world, especially the small corner of it on Folly Beach, is a much better place because of it. What makes you think you will change and not continue to bring joy to others?”

  “Nothing, but—”

  “But nothing. You don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. That’s true. Neither do I, nor does anyone. What happened with you and Heather was sad. I think you loved each other. For whatever reason, it didn’t work. Was it your fault? Some. Was it her fault? Some. Does that mean you won’t find happiness with someone else? Absolutely not. The one thing I’ve learned about you is that you are at your best and feel the best about yourself when you’re helping others. Is there a reason to think that you won’t continue to do that?”

  “I suppose not. You’re right about it making me feel good.”

  “So, you’re not rudderless, you simply don’t know what direction your helping will turn you toward.”

  Charles smiled for the second time since we’d arrived on the pier. “So your best pep talk is I’m lost, don’t know what direction I’m going, and not to worry. I won’t run aground?”

  I returned his smile. “Something like that.”

  “That’s honest to God stupid, but I think I understand. I still don’t hurt any less about losing Heather.”

  “You won’t for a long time.”

  He picked at the cuticle on his left hand, stood, and looked over the railing to the deck below before returning to the bench. “Okay, have you got this mess with Theo, the funny guys, the dead bookie, and the missing, unmissing frog figured out?”

  That was the Charles I’d come to admire and make fun of at every opportunity. Getting involved in someone else’s problems was the quickest way to bring him out of his funk. I was determined to help him along the way. I told him what I’d learned about Wallace and his current state, about Horace leaving Janice, plus the latest on Neil, including that he’d been in prison a decade ago. He listened without interrupting which told me he wasn’t over feeling rudderless.

  I finished summarizing, and he said, “What again did Theo tell you that Ray said to, umm, Pete I guess, before Ray charged out of Cal’s during the comedians first appearance?”

  “Something about Wallace killing the audience. I’m not sure of the exact words. Why?”

  “Could that mean Ray was implying that Wallace killed something other than the audience?”

  �
�I don’t know. Theo wasn’t clear about what he heard. He said all of them were down each other’s throats the entire night, even before they got to Cal’s.”

  “Don’t suppose we can go right to the horse’s mouth to find out since Ray bounced down the steps to the hereafter.”

  “I’ll ask Pete.”

  “You do that.” Charles hesitated before saying, “See, I’m already helping.”

  I put my arm around his shoulder. “Yes, you are.”

  “My rudder’s on the mend. Why don’t we mosey over to Theo’s house and see if the sleeping beauties are awake yet, so we can ask Pete?”

  It was still before 10:00. I told Charles that from what I had seen on previous visits, Theo may be awake, but the odds that Pete and Sal were vertical were near zero.

  “If our p.m. is their a.m., I’ll meet you outside Theo’s at two. Don’t be late.”

  I told him that was a plan, not one I would have preferred, although it was one that would keep Charles involved in something other than himself. Instead of talking to Pete, I’d rather talk to Theo first. I was unclear what he had said about what Ray told Pete about killing the audience. It may have been nothing, but the word killing still stuck with me.

  I was standing at the bottom of Theo’s steps at 1:30, looking around for my friend. Instead of seeing Charles, my phone rang. His name was on the screen.

  “Guess what?” Charles said.

  I smiled. “You got a pet aardvark.”

  “Guess again.”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “You’re still no fun. Okay, Dude has me delivering a wetsuit for some guy from London, the one in England, who’s staying at a big ole mansion out West Ashley Avenue. Something about the guy doesn’t have a car with him. He just absolutely has to surf this afternoon, old chap, and needs the bloody wetsuit.”

  I was surprised. “Dude, the master of the annihilated vocabulary, said it like that?”

  “Course not. That’s my interpretation of whatever he said.”

  “Are you saying you’re not coming to Theo’s?”