Martin stood before the large screen and scanned the information he had on Norman Weissman. His thumb pushed upward under his chin while his index finger tapped rapidly against his full, pursed lips. He sighed softly as he looked over Norman’s history:
Angel was born on September 04, 1953 to parents, William and Victoria (both deceased).
Angel was older brother to one sister, Lynn.
Angel was bullied as a youth, but maintained a good-natured and friendly spirit.
Angel was well-educated.
Angel was respected by his peers as a successful businessman.
Angel was a confirmed homosexual until he became a born-again Christian in 2009, after he lost everything he owned when the housing market bubble burst. His former partner left him when angel acknowledged that he believed that homosexuality was a sin, and took everything that the banks had not taken from him.
Angel abandoned his former life and began travelling around the southern states in late 2009, making many friends and living a Christian-filled life along with way, but never putting down any roots.
Angel lost all contact with his only living relative, his sister, Lynn; Angel unaware that he was an uncle.
Angel was homeless when he died in the early hours on Saturday, January 17, 2016.
“Martin! You ‘ole buzzard, how are ya!”
Martin squeezed his eyes closed and tensed in anticipation of the punch he knew was coming.
“Hello, Bertie,” he exhaled, taking the punch to the back of his left shoulder. He turned around and accepted Max’s bear hug. “It’s so good to see you, my friend.”
Max smiled down at the thin, weak-looking man who had been his friend for as long as he could remember. He hugged Martin tighter against him. “It’s really good to see you, too.”
Bertie squeezed between the two men and shouted, “Hey! What about me? Aren’t you glad to see me, too?” She punched Martin again for good measure.
Martin glanced at Max, who simply smiled back at him. “Yes, Bertie; of course, I’m glad to see you, too.”
Bertie glanced at the screen that highlighted information about Norman Weissman. “You must’ve known we were going to ask about him. It’s good to see you’re on the ball, Martin. Maybe you’ll get to keep your job, after all.”
Martin’s spine stiffened. “What do mean, keep my job? Of course, I’m going to keep my job.”
Bertie continued to tease the angel who always took life, and death, much too seriously. “Oh, don’t go getting your gown in a knot, Martin. I was just kidding. Besides, I can’t imagine that anyone else would want all this responsibility.” She waved her hand at the large screen behind them. “So, did you find anything out that might help us find Martin’s relatives?”
“You are not to interfere with any of that, Bertie…” Martin began.
Bertie held up her hand to hush him. “I know, I know, but…there has to be someone out there who is missing him. Did you know that his body could end up in one of those godforsaken BODY FARMS?”
Max draped an arm over Bertie’s shoulder. “Calm down, Bertie.” He looked at Martin and explained. “Doug gave Bertie a quick course on what happens to unclaimed bodies down on earth. The body farm scenario did not go over well, as you can see.”
Martin shivered. “Ewww…body farms…what an absolutely disgusting development!”
“I agree one-hundred percent!” Bertie chimed in. “So, who does he have in his past that can stop that from happening?”
Martin turned back to the screen. “He only has two living relatives—a younger sister—her name is Lynn, and her daughter. Actually, the sister has been searching for Norman since he disappeared in 2009. She has become quite ill, herself, the last couple of years and has had to curtail her search for her brother.”
“Oh, no…” Max sighed.
“Well, that just sucks!” Bertie pouted. “How sick is she?”
Martin shook his head. “She’s terminal, but she has good days and bad days. She has a daughter who has promised her that she will continue to search for her Uncle Norman. Such a shame, to die like that, separated from one’s family and loved ones.”
“Norman wasn’t alone,” Bertie said. “He was part of a homeless group. I don’t know how close any of them really were, but they were a group who tried to look after one another.”
“Well, they obviously didn’t do too good a job, now did they?” Martin replied. “Oh, I’m sorry, forgive me. I should not have said that. It wasn’t the group’s fault that Norman died.”
Max stared hard at his old friend. “You know who killed Norman, don’t you, my friend?” Sometimes, this information was revealed to the angels on earth, and sometimes not; but, Max knew that Martin had access to that information.
Martin nodded. “I do, yes, but please understand that I cannot reveal that information to even you, Max. There is more to be played out down there than you might realize.”
“Obviously,” Max nodded. “Don’t worry, Martin, I understand your predicament, and will not press you for more answers on that subject.”
“Well, Hells-Bells! I sure will!” Bertie bellowed. “How can we help any of them if we don’t know what’s really going on down there?”
Max pulled Bertie to him. “Let it go for now, Bertie. Martin will tell us what we need to know when he can, and not before. So, what do you say we go visit our families for a spell?”
Bertie pulled away from Max and pouted. “I’m going, I’m going. I can take a hint, you know. You two want to be alone to talk in private, so go right ahead.”
She vanished before their eyes.
Martin shook his head. “She’s so melodramatic. I do not envy you having to keep a reign on her, Maximus.” He sighed. “So what about you? Are you going to visit your family today?”
Max nodded. “In a little bit. I wanted to speak with you, privately, about Doug.”
“I already know what you’re thinking,” Martin said, as he waved his hand and the words on the large screen disappeared. “Do you think he suspects?”
Max shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t think he’s made the connection yet, and I have to admit that I’m a little concerned about how he may react when he does make it.”
“Well,” Martin winked. “There’s only one person who has a definitive answer to that!”
“That is true, my friend, that is true.” Max turned to leave. “It would be nice to have a heads-up on the end result, though, wouldn’t it?”
Bertie had delayed her visitation with her family and made a quick detour to the Receiving Station—one of two transition stations in Heaven. She nodded to the dozens of people wandering around, and even punched a few of them on their shoulders. “Welcome, Home!” she grinned at them, all the while, scanning the area for one in particular.
She was almost ready to think that Norman Weissman may not have asked for repentance quick enough, when she finally spotted him in the middle of a small group of men and women. She listened while he laughed with them and, apparently, relished the fact that he had indeed made it to Heaven, after all.
Norman laughed good-naturedly with his fellow, recent transients. He spotted Bertie coming toward them and pointed. “Hey! I know you. You’re that waitress that works in the diner that has the halo floating over it!”
Bertie weaved her way inside the group and punched Norman against the shoulder. “Yep, that would be me, alright. How are you, Norman?”
Norman did a little penquin-waddle and laughed. “How am I? Well, not bad for being a dead man, I guess. I am dead, aren’t I?” He looked around at all the transients in their white robes before glancing down at his own. “Just look at me—finally—in a dress!”
Bertie couldn’t help but laugh along with him. She pulled him away from the crowd and said, “Walk with me, Norman.”
“But, I don’t want to miss anything here,” Norman worried. “What if they call my name or something, and I don’t hear them?”
Bertie shook her head. “That’s not how it works. Don’t worry, you’re not going to miss anything, and you’re not going anywhere you don’t want to be. You made it! You’re in Heaven, and you are going to know a peace that you’ve never experienced before.”
Norman tagged along behind her but looked back at the group of transients. “I already feel it, and it feels wonderful. I, uh, kind of had my doubts that I would be let in here…I mean, with my past sins and all.”
“You’re talking about the whole homosexual thing, huh?” Bertie queried. “Yeah, well, I try not to get too involved in all that. The way I figure it, that’s something really, really personal between you and God. It isn’t my place to judge you or anyone else. Trust me, we’ve all done things that we aren’t too proud about.”
“Well, that’s good to know, but I still feel awkward being here. I was forty-one years old before I had my first sexual experience, and it was with the man that was my partner for almost fifteen years. After I lost everything in 2009, I began to question a lot of things. Somehow, along the way, I turned to the Bible. That’s where I first read the words that I was living in sin. I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, I truly loved the man I was with, and we were totally devoted to each other; but, after learning more about what the Bible and church had to say about homosexuality, I began to question our relationship. It hurt him—a lot—and, after I lost my real estate business, I lost him, too. He took everything that the bank forgot to take. I never even said good-bye to him; I just packed a few clothes in a duffel bag, took a few hundred dollars I had managed to hide, and walked away from my life.”
Bertie shook her head. “None of that is important anymore, Norman. You’ll see that in time. You’ll never move on to the second station, though, if you keep hanging on to all these doubts you have about yourself.”
Norman looked around him at the calming, white serenity that surrounded them. “You mean there’s more to Heaven that this?” he asked, incredulously.
“Oh, honey, you have no idea what’s in store for you up here!” Bertie laughed and punched him again. She looked around to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “But, listen,” she whispered as she pulled him closer to her. “I want to know what you remember about who did this to you. Who killed you, Norman?”
“B-E-R-T-I-E!!”
Bertie cringed. “Oh, Hells-Bells…” She knew that voice all too well. How could she have forgotten about the one person that heard absolutely EVERYTHING?
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction.” Proverbs 1:7 (NKJV)
CHAPTER 6
Returning Memories
Doug entered the clearing to the campground around seven-thirty on Monday morning. He noticed that the crime scene tape had been removed, probably by either the police or by teenagers, and, the only evidence that anything sinister had happened there was the dark splatter of Norman’s blood on the overpass’s concrete wall.
He didn’t know what to expect when he pushed through the brush, but it certainly was not the sight that greeted him. Joe Sanders and Bernard Cartwright—alias, Curly and Moe—were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to the camp fire, warming their hands. Doug glanced quickly around and saw Jason rolling up his sleeping bag. He looked to his right and saw Skipper coming out of the woods.
Doug walked over to the two makeshift tents and peered inside, hoping to see Stella in one of them. She wasn’t there, and it pained him to see PJ’s empty tent.
“Good morning, Douglas,” Bernard nodded. “I hope there’s hot coffee in one of those bags.”
Doug nodded to Jason and Skipper before turning back to the camp fire. “You bet there is—two cups for each of you, plus two extra—I was hoping Stella might be here, too. It got pretty cold out last night. Is everyone okay?” He began passing around the coffee, as well as sausage and egg biscuits that Max had cooked up, especially for the homeless group.
“Nobody has seen Stella, and, I haven’t had much of an appetite since…” Bernard began. “Well, since Norman left us. I have to admit it…I really miss him.”
“Me, too,” Joe agreed, “But, old Norman wouldn’t want us passing up free food, now would he? If you don’t want your biscuits, I’ll be more than glad to take them off your hands!” He took a big bite of the huge buttermilk biscuit, filled with smoked sausage and a fried egg. “Norman would want us to keep up our strength.”
Skipper walked closer to the camp fire and bent down. He held out his hand and said, “I’ll take a cup of that coffee. You can give my share of the biscuits to Joe.”
Doug was more than a little surprised that Skipper had emerged from the woods and asked for the coffee. He usually just left the food on top of Skipper’s bed roll, and hoped that the man got to it before the bugs, or Joe, did. “You bet, Skipper.” He looked toward Jason. “How about you, Jason…want to join us?”
Something had happened to Jason on Saturday evening, and Doug had no idea what had caused the change. One minute, he had been sitting there drinking coffee and waiting until they could get an update from the hospital about PJ’s condition…and, the next minute, he had stood up and walked out of the café, saying that he would be back later to check on PJ. He never returned.
Jason released a deep breath and rubbed his gloveless hands together. “Yeah, I think I will. Thanks,” he said as he joined the group and took the coffee and biscuit. “I, uh, didn’t get to eat anything last night. This smells good.” He took a bite of the biscuit and chased it down with the hot coffee. He looked over at Doug and asked, “What about PJ? Did you hear anything?”
The other three men looked up from their own coffee; apparently, none of them had noticed PJ’s absence. Skipper was the first to ask, “What’s happened to PJ?”
“Oh, no!” Joe exclaimed. “Don’t tell me she’s dead, too!”
Doug glanced at Jason. “Do you want to tell them, or should I?”
Jason finished his biscuit and held his coffee in one hand. He finally nodded and addressed the group. “PJ was hit by a car late Saturday afternoon. I saw her here, looking in her tent. She said she came to get the rest of her stuff, but it was all gone.”
“Yes,” Bernard said. “The cops took everything that we left behind—for evidence, I presume. What else happened, Jason?”
Jason rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uneasy at being the center of attention. “We were standing here talking, and I asked her if she saw what happened with Norman. She just…panicked…yelled that she didn’t know anything, and then took off running through the bushes, toward the highway. I…I don’t think she ever saw the car that hit her.”
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Joe asked, his eyes tearing up.
Doug placed a hand on Joe’s shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. “No, she isn’t dead, Joe, but she was badly hurt. I checked with the hospital Saturday night, and they took her in to surgery to repair broken bones in her pelvis, leg and arm. The head nurse said she had a severe concussion from her head hitting the pavement, but that all tests indicate that she should be okay, once she wakes up.”
Skipper scoffed. “I’m surprised they would tell you anything about her. You’re not family.”
“No, I’m not,” Doug agreed. “However, they would not even had known her name if I had not told them. I told them that she was homeless and that we did not have any information on her next of kin.”
Jason lowered his head and closed his eyes. When he looked back up at Doug, he smiled. “So, she’s really going to be okay? She’s going to make it?”
Doug nodded. “They couldn’t guarantee that, and it’s important that she wake up today, but, I have a strong feeling and belief that PJ is going to be just fine.”
“What about when she’s released from the hospital?” Skipper asked. “Where will she go? She sure can’t come back here to home, sweet home.” He waved his arms around their camp site. “She’s going to need someone to help her until she heals.”
/> “Do you know anything about her background, her family?” Doug asked Skipper.
Skipper grabbed a second cup of coffee and turned to leave. “No, and I don’t want to know.” He walked over to the pine tree he had slept beneath the night before, and grabbed his backpack and sleeping bag. He never looked back at the group of men sitting around the camp fire.
Joe and Bernard both stood and brushed the pine needles off their clothes. Doug stood with them and offered them more coffee and biscuits from the large bag. “Thanks,” Joe grinned. “Keep us posted on PJ, okay? She’s a good gal.”
“I’ll do that,” Doug nodded. “So…none of you have seen Stella since all this went down?”
Bernard shook his head. “No, but we all make some of the same daily rounds, so we’ll keep an eye out for her. I wouldn’t worry too much about Stella, though. Something tells me that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.”
Jason waited until Curly and Moe had ambled off toward town. He sat back down and began eating a second biscuit. “This is really good. Thanks for the food. We all appreciate it, you know, but, you don’t have to keep bringing it to us.”
Doug squatted down beside Jason. “I know, but, Max and I hold a special place in our hearts for Veterans.”
Jason turned his head sharply in Doug’s direction. “What makes you think any of us are Veterans?”
“I know more than you think, Jason, but that’s not important right now. I really wanted a chance to talk to you alone this morning, to find out why you left the café so abruptly on Saturday. Max wanted to meet you. I mean, one minute you were there, and the next…”
Jason interrupted Doug’s line of questioning. “I said…thanks for the food. That doesn’t mean that you, or your friend, Max, has any right to know anything about any of us. We don’t bother anyone, and we don’t want anyone bothering us.” He stood up to leave.
Star-Spangled Rejects (The Heavenly Grille Café Book 3) Page 5