When It's Time for Leaving

by Ang Pompano

  Of course, she was. We both knew that. Why did I have to watch every word I said with this woman? I let it go.

  “Maybe he saw something.”

  “So why are you here instead of over there talking to him?”

  Beats me how someone could go from happy to annoyed in thirty seconds. It seemed like it was my day to piss everyone off. I tried again.

  “Do you know his name?”

  “You could have asked Greenleaf.”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Maybe I would rather ask you.”

  That wasn’t a lie. I did want to get to know Max better, although at that point I was beginning to wonder why. Plus, technically she was my boss in the agency.

  “You’re right. I should have asked Greenleaf,” I said.

  I heaved a sigh of defeat. I started to walk back toward the path.

  “All right. Come back. Put this easel by the pool for me while I get the rest of my stuff.”

  By the time I figured out how to open and set up the stupid thing, she was back with a half-finished painting of the mouth of the river.

  “I like it.” I pointed to the painting.

  “You don’t have to butter me up just because I’m your superior.”

  She may be my superior, but I hoped she wouldn’t forget who owns the agency. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. Your neighbor’s name is Percy Lynch.”

  Percy Lynch. Where had I heard that name before?

  “What else do you know about him?”

  “I thought you wanted his name. I didn’t know this would be an interrogation.”

  “I thought you could give me some background on him before I went over there.” I like to know as much as I can about someone before questioning them. It helps me read them and avoid surprises.

  She softened a bit. I think she was flattered that I asked her. “He lives in England most of the year, but goes back and forth a few times each winter with his wife Jane. He used to be with the circus before he retired.”

  That was it. Percy Lynch was the ringmaster who fought for better treatment of elephants until the circus finally decided to stop using them. “See, now that wasn’t so hard.”

  “There’s something else you should know before you go over there.”

  She had an amused look on her face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, it’s not important. You can handle it.”

  “What?”

  “They’re... Oh, never mind.”

  “You started it. Tell me.”

  “You’ll find out. I will tell you this: even though they are retired, the circus is still a big part of their lives.”

  I waved her off. “That’s all? I thought you were going to say that they were killer clowns or something.”

  “Go see for yourself.”

  I distinctly heard her chuckle as I left her yard.

  *****

  The gate across the Lynch’s driveway was closed. I pressed the call button but there was no answer. I could hear music coming from their property; someone was over there. There was no convenience of a path between the two properties, so I walked through my backyard up to the water. The tide was low, and knowing that any land below the high tide line was public, I walked to the back of the Lynch’s property. I hopped up onto their seawall.

  “Hullo, hullo?” I called out.

  “This is private property.”

  The woman’s voice came from a hammock by the pool. A head popped up. I don’t know which I noticed first, that she was naked or there was a giant snake wrapped around her. I’m pretty sure that the snake came second.

  “Mrs. Lynch?” She was in her mid-forties and had the athletic body of a circus performer. She got up and the monster snake slithered around her and down her body. Then it zigzagged across the lawn and plopped into the pool. I tried to keep my eyes on the snake for more than one reason.

  I cleared my throat and tried to make my voice sound like nude women playing with colossal snakes were something I saw every day. “Is that a boa constrictor?”

  “A Python. Monty loves the water, don’t you baby?” She dove in the pool and swam along with the snake.

  The guy who had only watched when I found Keller’s body came out of a shed carrying a pool skimmer. Unfortunately, Lynch, who must have been a good twenty-five years older than his wife, didn’t even have the courtesy of wearing a snake. Bleah. If I could pull my eyes out, I’d have washed them in the pool. Very funny, Max, for not warning me.

  “Really Jane, see what the gentleman wants so he can be on his way.” Lynch had an upper crust British accent not all that different from what you would hear on Long Island’s east end.

  “Mr. Lynch. I have a quick question. It’s important.”

  He scooped up a net full of leaves from the pool and dumped them into a plastic barrel.

  “Bloody messy tree.”

  I knew the tiny leaves were from the live-oak tree in my yard.

  “My name is DeSantis.”

  I kept my eye on the snake in the pool. It was swimming in circles around Jane.

  “Who did you say you were with, Mr. DeSantis?” Lynch gave a fake yawn.

  “I’m an investigator.”

  “Insurance? Newspaper? TV reporter?”

  “Private,” I said.

  “A private investigator?” he waved me off, “I wish I could help.”

  “I’m your neighbor,” I said. As if that was going to get me anywhere with this jerk.

  “Yes, yes. Now I’m putting it together. DeSantis. You must be related to that detective from next door. Disagreeable fellow, I must say.”

  Yeah, he had my old man’s number all right. ‘Disagreeable’ was putting it mildly.

  “I’m living there.” For the time being at least.

  He actually smiled, but it was the smile of a used car salesman.

  “Why didn’t you say as much.”

  There was a stir in the pool.

  “Offer our guest a gin and tonic, darling,” Jane said. Then she dove under the water followed by the snake.

  “I’m good.” I waved off the offer. I don’t take drinks from naked bartenders.

  Lynch wasn’t interested in offering hospitality anyway.

  “What’s the asking price?” He asked.

  What the hell was he talking about?

  “Excuse me?”

  “For your property. You’ve decided to sell. That’s why you’re here, correct?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I presumed.”

  “When the time comes, I’ll let you know.”

  I did intend to sell but he would be the last to know. I’d give it away before I’d let this wanker get it.

  “I guess you know there was an incident next door yesterday. I noticed you watching from your dock when we were taking the body from the water.”

  He could have tried to help. He seemed to read my mind.

  “Yes. Well. You and the lady seemed to have had everything under control. I thought it best to keep myself to myself.”

  “Did you recognize him? The dead guy.”

  “I couldn’t see him from my dock.”

  “What about anything unusual out on the water that morning. Did you see anything?”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention. Had I known there would be an incident, I would have done. Jane, did you notice anything unusual?”

  Lynch scooped up another bunch of leaves from the pool, startling the snake. It wrapped itself around his wife again and she giggled. Then her eyes glazed over and she started to make weird sounds.

  “Hoom. Hoom. Hooooom.”

  I walked toward the pool and bent down by the edge. The snake eyed me.

  “Mrs. Lynch, even the s
lightest thing might be important.”

  She spit out a mouthful of water. “Hoom, hoom, hoom, hoom.”

  I looked toward Lynch. “What’s she doing?”

  “Chanting. The Hum Mantra drives out negative feelings and stimulates a positive flow through the body. Apparently, you are sending pessimistic vibes.” Mr. Lynch couldn’t have been more condescending.

  “Mrs. Lynch, please. If you could answer my questions.”

  “Hoommmmm.”

  “There you have it then.” The husband started walking toward the seawall indicating I should follow. “When I purchase your property, the first thing that goes is that blasted tree.”

  I jumped down from the seawall to the beach. Don’t be so eager, dude.

  *****

  I walked the waterline past my property until I got to Max’s place. I was going to tell her she’d pulled a fast one on me by not warning me the Lynches were nudists, but when I didn’t see her in her yard, I decided I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of laughing at me, so I walked back home. Besides, I had set a realistic goal of wrapping up the work at Blue Palmetto in a few months, and I knew Max would be a big help, so I didn’t want to argue with her. I put the drowning incident aside, although I still wondered about the identity of the dead guy that I suspected from his necklace to be a windsurfer.

  9

  I CAPPED OFF A LONG DAY—that started with a lifeless body and ended with the weirdest couple I had ever met—by fixing myself a late-night home-made Mexican dinner. As I streamed a Grateful Dead concert on the Internet, I washed my meal down with lots of Patrón I found in my father’s liquor cabinet. I had to say he had good taste in tequila.

  I don’t know what time I fell asleep on the couch, but I stayed there until a knock on the porch door woke me up. Greenleaf and Max were the only people I knew on Ava Island. Of course, I knew the Lynches, but nudists didn’t count in my book. It was still dark, so if it was Greenleaf or Max, I knew there was a problem. I drew in my breath when I opened the door to find Max on the porch.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Why would she be bothering me at this hour? She didn’t have an office at Blue Palmetto, her house being steps away from the small agency. If she was there to get something from the files, she was being a little over zealous. I had noticed a spark between us when we updated each other on our cases, but it wasn’t like we were ready for Hulu and commitment. I’d only been in Savannah for two days. Although I wouldn’t mind if she was there for something other than business, despite the awkward situation of her outranking me.

  “Come on, you’re going to miss the sunrise,” she said.

  “I’ve seen the sun come up before.”

  “Not like here on the island. There will be hundreds of people there.”

  Watching the sun come up with a bunch of tourists, that was the last thing I wanted to do with the buzz going on in my head from the tequila.

  “I don’t know. It’s still dark.”

  “That’s the point. Come on, it will be fun.”

  On second thought, hanging out with Max wasn’t a bad idea.

  “Cool,” I said.

  She had a smirk that fell somewhere between that of the Mona Lisa and Obama. I didn’t have to look down to realize I was in my boxers.

  “Put on some pants first.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not like I needed a dinner jacket to have tacos. Besides compared to those two weirdos next door, this is formal.”

  Max laughed. “I guess I should have warned you about the Lynches.”

  “Very funny. I’m more pissed that it was a waste of time. Neither one of them would admit that they saw anything.”

  “Hurry up, maybe we’ll see the green flash.”

  I was decent and outside in less than a minute. When I headed to my F-150, Max stopped me.

  “It’s only a five-minute walk.”

  Before we knew it, we were crossing a boardwalk pass over the grass-covered dunes that separate the beach from the picnic area along the street. On the other side was the widest beach I had ever seen. The shoreline was covered with people taking photos and video with their cell phones like they had never seen the sun come up.

  As twilight appeared on the horizon, the crowd turned their collective gaze eastward in anticipation.

  People argued if they saw the green flash or not as the sun popped above the skyline. Cheers and clapping filled the air as the atmosphere turned a pale peach, and then quickly took on reds, yellows, and blues.

  “Selfie time!” We positioned ourselves with our backs to the sun.

  We put our heads together and I held out my camera and snapped. The first one caught the brilliant sunrise but our faces were in silhouette.

  “Let me try,” she said. She repositioned us so that light hit our faces. Perfect. I hoped it would be the first of many happy pictures of us together.

  “Send it to me,” I said.

  As she was texting it to my phone, I spotted two windsurfers about to start their day a distance down the beach.

  “I’ll be right back.” I raced up to them.

  “There’s a guy who hangs out down here, white dude with dreads. You know him?” I asked.

  “You mean Keller?” The taller one said.

  The shorter of the two looked at me with suspicion. “Why are you asking?”

  “He had an accident. I’m looking for someone who knows him.”

  “An accident? How bad?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Andy’s dead? No way.” The big one said.

  “I’m afraid so. Someone should be notified. What can you tell me about him?”

  “We have to go,” the suspicious one said.

  The taller one was obviously the more concerned of the two. “Don’t mind my brother. We only know him from down here. He was a cool dude. Totally radical surfer. I don’t know much more, other than he was some kind of blogger.”

  “We gotta go.” The shorter one pulled his brother’s arm.

  As they walked toward a path over the dunes, Max caught up with me. “Why did you disappear like that?”

  “The body has a name.”

  *****

  The name Andy Keller didn’t ring a bell with Max. We sat on a bench by the edge of the sand dunes, Max relishing the beautiful colors in the clouds. As much as I wanted to pay attention, I kept trying to sneak a peek at my phone.

  “Look at that. You’re missing it. What’s so important?” She sounded more inquisitive than annoyed.

  “Sorry.” I put the phone in my pocket. “He had a blog and I’m curious to find out more about him.”

  “Give that to me. I’ll find it.”

  I put the phone in her outstretched hand. “You wanted to watch the sunrise.”

  “I’ve seen the sun come up before. Keller?”

  “Right. Andy Keller.”

  She typed something in. “Here it is, it’s called, Stirring the Savannah Sands.” She showed me the screen.

  Along each side of the screen were ads for restaurants, bars, and beach businesses. “He must have a decent number of followers to generate so many ads.”

  Max tipped her head.

  “I know most of these places. Some are here on Ava and some are on Tybee Island. A few of them are good, most are tourist traps.”

  Max and I read together. In addition to the business links, each edition had a blog article written by Keller, relating to the Savannah area seashore. The current blog was an exposé of landlords gouging tourists on rental properties. Past articles included a dredging dispute between Ava and Tybee Islands, the question of the possible merger of the Ava Island Police Department with the Savannah–Chatham Metropolitan Police Department, and how not to get ripped off by unscrupulous businesses selling hurricane
shutters.

  “It looks as if Keller was a rabble rouser,” Max said.

  “But was that enough for someone to want to kill him?”

  “I should hope not. I covered the same kind of stories when I was a reporter.” She studied my face. I assumed she was looking for a reaction, which she did not get. “I didn’t tell you I was an investigative reporter. Did I?”

  I hiked up one shoulder and took the phone from her. “I have to call Johnson.” I got the Ava Island PD. The house mouse that answered connected me to Johnson’s voice mail. I left a message for him to get a hold of me.

  Max still wanted to give me her credentials. “So, did you know what I did for a living before your father gave me a job?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You Googled me?”

  “I heard it some place.”

  “Tell me something. Is your passive aggressive behavior because you resent that I outrank you?”

  “I don’t resent anything.”

  “Not even your father?”

  “Well, yeah, I admit that.”

  “And you don’t resent that your father set it up so that I outrank you, even though you’re the owner of the agency?”

  “I’m still going to sell it, so it doesn’t matter. Right?”

  “If you say so.”

  One thing I learned from my time with Kim was that a guy has to know when to diffuse.

  “Look, I wasn’t trying to be rude and I don’t resent anything. I’m just psyched at learning Keller’s name. I mean, talk about good luck.”

  “Luck?”

  “Yeah, as far as me finding those two surfers.” She looked as if she was waiting for more. “And you finding Keller’s blog.”

  “Ah.”

  Situation diffused. “Want to go down to the village to celebrate our lead with breakfast?”

  “No.”

  Crap. This was me and Kim all over again. Was she still angry that I took off down the beach? Or, could it be this crazy idea that I was jealous that she was senior agent?

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I have never met a woman who said something was nothing who didn’t mean it was something.

  “Let’s go to your place for breakfast out on the patio,” she said.

  10