by Ang Pompano
IT WAS WARM CONSIDERING it was still April, and a light breeze brought in the lemony-sweet scent of what Max had told me was magnolia.
As she sprawled out on a double lounge chair by the seawall, I poured her a mimosa and climbed in next to her.
“Perfect morning.” I held up my glass and we clinked.
She moved in closer. I put my arm around her. My cell phone rang. I declined the call and let it go to voicemail. I took a gulp of my mimosa and spit out a bit of orange pulp.
“Does anyone use voice mail anymore?” she said as she moved her face closer to mine.
“I don’t.” I put my arm around her again. She cuddled in as the waves lapped at the seawall. Then she pulled back when we heard a loud bump as Lynch hit the dock with his boat. He pulled out into the river and tried again, this time smashing his motor into a piling.
I was laughing at Q-tip Head’s lousy boating skills when my cell phone rang again. Caller ID told me it was the same number.
Max moved to the other side of the lounge. “You may as well answer it.”
I tried to make my voice show how pissed I was. “DeSantis here.”
“Mr. DeSantis, thank goodness you picked up. My name is Estelle Brewer. You found a body at your dock.”
I knew that. “What can I do for you?”
“I have to talk to you.”
“No problem. Call the office later, Ms. Brewer. We open at nine.”
I could detect a hitch in the woman’s voice.
“But I called yesterday and Mrs. Greenleaf told me you were out of the office. She gave me this number and assured me that if I mentioned her name, you’d see me right away.”
There was a loud thump from next door as Lynch crashed the boat into the dock again.
“Go ahead, Ms. Brewer.”
“Actually, I’m in your driveway. May I come in?”
If Felicia Greenleaf hadn’t been with the agency from day one, I would have fired her. Besides, I didn’t think I would be able to run the place without her—or I should say, close the place without her. Still, a talking-to was in order.
Within minutes, Estelle was on the patio. She accepted Max’s offer of a mimosa, took a deep drink and got to the point.
“I need you to find my daughter. I haven’t heard from her in two months.”
Judging from the woman’s age, I took it her daughter wasn’t a child.
“Are we talking about a minor?”
“Oh, goodness no. She’s married.”
“Tracking down estranged family members isn’t the type of case we handle.” We. The word caught me by surprise the minute I said it. I cringed at my slip of the tongue. I certainly did not identify myself as part of the Blue Palmetto Detective Agency.
“But she and I have a good relationship. She’s gone missing.”
I’d heard that line dozens of times when I was on the force. Inevitably the so-called missing person only wanted to be left alone. I had no reason to believe this was not the case with Estelle’s daughter.
“People lose contact all of the time for one reason or another. Have you notified the police?”
“They said there is no evidence of a crime and to come back when I have something to go on. That’s why I need a private investigator—to get them something to go on. And I understand you are good. After all, your father solved the Granville Kidnapping.”
Again with Granville. This was the first I had heard it was a kidnapping.
“Are you saying your daughter was kidnapped?”
“It’s the only explanation I can think of. There isn’t a trace of her. And since your father…”
“Listen, Estelle. That was Big Al’s case. I’m not my father. I’m sorry.”
Max was standing behind Estelle frowning at me. I pretended I didn’t notice her.
“But you’re my only hope,” Estelle said.
“In all honesty, I don’t see how I can help you. I’m not taking on any new cases.”
“But, this could be your Granville.”
I didn’t need a damned Granville. “As I said, I’m afraid I’m not interested. Sorry.”
Estelle put down her mimosa and stood. She had tears in her eyes and a bit of orange pulp on her front tooth.
“I guess it’s not easy following in somebody’s footsteps,” she said.
That might have hurt except that she had it all wrong. I wasn’t following in anyone’s footsteps, especially not those of Big Al DeSantis.
She started for the door looking so dejected that I felt bad that I had to refuse her. The woman had no way of knowing where I was coming from.
Max shot me a look that asked how I could do that to an old lady.
“May we have a word?” Max inclined her head toward the kitchen and I followed her inside.
“As senior agent, I still have a say, don’t I?”
“Yeah.”
She had a say and I knew she was going to exercise it.
“I think we should help her.”
“I intend to close this agency.”
“And I’m sure you will, but as long as we’re open, we have an obligation to do right by people who need our services. That’s all I have to say.”
I threw up my hands. “I’ll get the details. Maybe we can find someone who can help her.”
I went back outside where Estelle was looking out at the river.
“Sit down,” I said.
“You’ll take the case?” Estelle asked. She had such hope on her face that I was already regretting my decision to hear her out.
“I’ll listen and see where I can direct you. Let’s start with your daughter’s name.”
“Jill Hicks. She lives here in Savannah. I’m living up in Aiken at a spread I inherited. It took me 3 1/2 hours to drive here with all of the highway construction around Statesboro.”
I knew Aiken, South Carolina—it was just on the other side of the line from Augusta, Georgia. “Horse country. I passed through on my way down to Savannah.”
“Yes. That’s why I’m worried. Jill has a horse we keep at our place. Its name is Butternut. She would never leave and not check up on him. That’s why I have been coming down every chance I get to look for her. I went to her house but it was empty. I don’t know where to turn.”
“Do you see your daughter often?”
“We communicate often. She calls to check on Butternut every few days, and she comes up whenever she can sneak away from her husband. I know that he tries to keep her away, so I hardly ever go to her house. Sometimes when your kids get married you have to back away a bit to keep the peace. Isn’t that the truth? So, I don’t ask too many questions.”
I raised my eyebrows at that statement.
“Wise thing to do,” I said. “What’s her husband’s name?”
“Roscoe Hicks. I know that they were having problems, and I’m worried for her safety.”
“Problems?”
“The last time we spoke she said he was accusing her of cheating on him.”
“I’m sorry that I have to ask this, but could she have run off with another man?”
Estelle looked hurt. “No. She would never do that.”
“But you said she was cheating on her husband.”
“I never said such a thing. I said her husband accused her of cheating. I didn’t say she was for sure.”
She was making my head swim and I didn’t want to hear any more.
“Mrs. Brewer, you can stop. I’m only here temporarily until I close my father’s case load. Then I’m moving on. If you call Mrs. Greenleaf when the office opens, she will give you a list of other private investigators you might try.”
Max edged her way in between us. “Mrs. Brewer, what Mr. DeSantis is trying to say is that when he has to leave, I’ll take the case on if it’s still not s
olved.”
I was surprised, but Max was pulling rank on me. I wasn’t going to argue in front of Estelle, but I’m sure the look on my face spoke volumes. I positioned myself so Estelle could see me.
“Mrs. Brewer, I’m confident this will be a case of your daughter simply looking for some privacy, but if the Blue Palmetto can set your mind at ease…”
“But you’re not listening to me, Mr. DeSantis. The man Jill’s husband was accusing her of having the affair with was Andy Keller. The man you found dead.”
Was she kidding me? I studied her face to see if she was trying to pull off some kind of elaborate con. “How do you know I found a body? And more to the point, how do you know the victim’s name?”
Estelle looked at me as if I had two heads.
“I read in the paper that you found Andy Keller’s body.”
It hadn’t been an hour since I’d found out the guy’s name was Keller. “In the paper? His name is in the paper?”
Who reads newspapers anymore?
“Yes, it’s right here.” She pulled a newspaper out of her bag.
“It’s on the television, too.” She handed me the paper. “You are the one who found the body, correct?”
So, Johnson identified the body and didn’t bother to tell me. I suppose it was my fault that he didn’t fill me in on the news. I did tell him my only interest was in closing the agency and getting to the west coast. Although by the same token, he could have kept my name out of the papers so I wouldn’t get involved in situations such as this one. For the second time in five minutes, I was trying to recover without looking like a fool in front of Estelle.
“I did find him. Right over there.” I pointed to the dock.
“That’s why you have to help me. I think my son-in-law killed Mr. Keller and either he is holding Jill against her will or…”
I knew she didn’t even want to think about the other possibility that Hicks might have already killed her daughter. Max spared her from having to say the unmentionable.
“Don’t you worry.” She took Estelle’s hand.
I had no choice but to go along. “We’ll look in to it. You’ll be hearing from us soon.”
The old woman’s face brightened. “Bless you,” she said.
It had been a long time since anyone blessed me. The way my life had been going, an exorcism would have been more in order.
11
“I’LL BET YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING,” Max said when Estelle left.
“Are you talking about your coup or the part about Andy Keller?”
“You’re actually mad that I was in favor of helping her? Listen, if you’re not happy with me for following my instinct, you can fire me.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to fire you. And your instinct was spot on. This time.”
Max glared at me. “Let’s drop it there then. I don’t need mansplaining. I have work to do.”
*****
When Greenleaf parked her Schwinn in the backyard later in the morning, she found me at the dock on my hands and knees trying to force a noodle float between the boat and the submerged float drum. Max’s mansplaining remark still bugged me.
“You’ll be happy to know that I saw my father,” I said to her when she hopped onto the dock.
Greenleaf made the sign of the cross in the air over my head. Between she and Estelle, all of this blessing was making me feel uncomfortable.
“There may be hope for you yet. I was beginning to give up on you,” she said.
I looked up at her. I could swear that I detected on her face what for Greenleaf would pass for a smile.
“Don’t get your hopes up that we’re going to become BFFs. He’s completely out of it. He was banging on the window with a walking stick trying to scare away a squirrel that he was convinced was a monkey.”
Greenleaf seemed to pale a little. Maybe I had upset her. But she did know that my father had Alzheimer’s. She’s the one who told me he had checked into The Palms. Her moment passed quickly and she seemed composed again.
“So, he’s still using the walking stick?”
“I told you, he was banging on the window with it. I find it kind of funny. I wouldn’t have thought of him as the type to carry a stick.”
She sighed. “He’s even less of the type that would use a walker. That’s what they wanted him to do and he flatly refused. I think they want him using some type of walking aid to cover themselves legally. I got him the stick a few weeks ago. I’m glad he’s using it.”
“Oh, he’s using it all right. He almost hit me with it.”
Greenleaf changed the subject as if it was my fault that I didn’t watch out for Big Al’s temper. I was beginning to get the impression that as far as she was concerned, Big Al could do no wrong. I wondered if maybe there was a little more to their relationship than I knew about.
“What on earth are you doing?” she said.
“I’m trying to figure out how anything could get caught between the dock and the boat.”
“It’s obvious. The current pushed the body in there.” Greenleaf spoke with the authority of someone who knew what she was talking about. As far as I knew, she wasn’t an oceanographer, but even if she was, I wasn’t buying her theory.
“Johnson said the same thing. I still don’t see it.” I demonstrated by pushing the boat away from the dock and showing her that the lines only opened the space between them eight or nine inches. “The body has a name by the way.”
“I know, Andy Keller.”
“Am I the only one who didn’t know that?”
“It’s in the newspaper. You should read one sometime. You can’t get all of your news from your phone.”
While we were in the telling-it-like-it-is mode, I started to tell her that I didn’t appreciate her giving out my private phone number, but she cut me off as soon as I said, “You know...”
“Speaking of the phone, a Mrs. Brewer was looking for you yesterday. I shouldn’t have given her your cell number but she sounded desperate. I hope that wasn’t a problem for you.”
Well, what was I supposed to say to that? I knew that was as close to an apology as I was going to get. There was no sense in belaboring the point.
“Did she call you?” Greenleaf’s voice was all business.
“Yeah. Mrs. Brewer wants me to find her daughter. She thinks the daughter’s husband killed Keller and her daughter might be next. I decided to see what I could do to help her. But it doesn’t mean I’m taking the case. Right?”
Greenleaf seemed relieved. “Good.”
I was still kneeling on the dock experimenting with the noodle. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get it to go between the dock and the boat.
“I see what you mean about the unlikelihood that a body could stick in there. But, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said.
I didn’t know her well, but it seemed a vote of confidence wasn’t something that she gave readily. She put her hand on my shoulder to get me to look up at her. “What does this mean?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I don’t know that much about currents.”
“I don’t mean the case. Are you going to keep the detective agency?”
I didn’t answer her.
12
ESTELLE HAD GIVEN ME HER daughter’s picture; a pretty girl in a delicate way with a small nose, big green eyes, and long brown hair. If you saw her on the street you would look twice, but maybe not a third time. She also gave me her last address, on Seiler Avenue in Savannah. My first hunch was that Jill didn’t want anything to do with her mother and moved without telling her, but this Andy Keller connection intrigued me. What if Estelle was correct and Hicks did kill him, and Estelle’s daughter was in danger? There was too much at stake for me to ignore.
I got off the Harry S. Truman Parkway and made my way to Seiler Ave., a
tree-lined street in the heart of Savannah. My hope was to find a neighbor who could give me a lead as to where the Hicks family went. I found the early 20th century bungalow defaced by a modern addition covered in delaminating texture 1-11 plywood.
I parked in front of a huge tree that had lifted the sidewalk and put a crack in the low brick wall that enclosed the lawn. The grassy area, small enough to cut with scissors, was dominated by a huge truck tire filled with sad looking geraniums. The place was empty all right, the only sign of it ever having been occupied was the icicle style Christmas lights that still dangled from the addition’s overhang. I spotted an elderly man next door watching me.
In contrast to Hicks’ place, the neighbor’s house was a tidy Arts and Crafts home that very well could have come from a Sears catalogue. The wall in front of his place was of concrete blocks no more than sixteen inches high and painted bright red to match the foundation of the house. The wall made a perfect backdrop for the small yellow flowers, each precisely spaced, that lined it. As I walked toward his yard, he picked up a rake, then met me at the row of little shrubs that defined his property line.
I held out my card, something that Greenleaf had taken upon herself to make for me, which he didn’t take.
“Al DeSantis. I’m a private investigator. Mr…?”
“Roman. Nate Roman. Are you carrying a gun?”
For several reasons, I hadn’t carried a gun since I left the force. Most private investigators that I’ve known over the years don’t, even in Georgia where open carry with a permit is legal, from what I understand. That’s mainly because it’s rare to get caught in a surprise situation, and it usually freaks people out to the point where they won’t give you any information if you enter their home packing. That’s not to say that there isn’t a nice compact Glock 19 locked in the compartment of my truck. I wasn’t wearing a jacket but I spread out my arms to show him there were no bulges under my shirt.
“I’m not.”
“Humph. What kind of detective are you?”
Wise ass octogenarians. If he and my father were any indication, Georgia must be loaded with them. But, you got to love them for telling it as they think it is.
I gave him a friendly smile instead of telling him what I was thinking.