When It's Time for Leaving

by Ang Pompano

  “I guess nothing good comes from dealing with a lawyer or a private detective.”

  If she thought I would laugh at that, she was wrong.

  “You got that right.”

  The sun was down now and we were laying on the blanket watching the last rays play on the clouds from beyond the horizon.

  “So, finish the story,” she said.

  “What’s there to finish? You know Greenleaf, she called me the next morning and demanded that I tell her what I wanted to do with the agency.”

  “I hope you were a little nicer to her this time.”

  I scoffed. “I guess. I checked with several lawyers and found that I was indeed the owner of the home on Ava Island. But what Ms. Greenleaf didn’t tell me was that the home was inextricably tied in with my running the detective agency. Thanks loads, Dad.”

  Max must have liked my story. We grabbed a quick bite to eat in the village and went back to her house where the already good evening took a turn for the better.

  *****

  There is a law of nature that dictates that a man should fall asleep after sex. Especially after mind-blowing, headboard banging, I wished there was a trapeze hanging from the ceiling sex. My problem was that when we finished, I broke that law and decided to have a civil conversation with the woman that I cared about very much. When she asked me what was on my mind, I told her.

  “I’ve got to track down Hicks and find out if there is a connection between Estelle’s daughter, Jill, and Keller’s murder. I’m determined to make some progress tomorrow.”

  “I could help you,” Max said as she made little circles on my bare chest with her finger. “I’m pretty much on schedule with my case load.”

  Shit. I should have had a cigarette instead of flapping my big mouth, but it was too late to take up smoking.

  “Seriously?”

  “Sure, I am the senior investigator in this agency. Or did you forget?”

  “I didn’t forget,” I said before I brought her into my arms and kissed her, ready to start another round of fantastic sex.

  She pulled away. “But you don’t want me to help you.”

  “I never got a passing grade in Works Well with Others. Sorry.”

  I truly expected that was the end of the evening, but Max was bigger than that. The loving was more than lovelier in the second go around. But this time Max called all of the shots.

  20

  I WAS WALKING BACK to my house when my cell phone rang. It was Estelle. Just the person I wanted to talk to.

  “I know it’s late,” she said.

  “It’s okay. What is it?”

  “I was wondering if you made any progress in finding my daughter.”

  Only a few months ago, I was chasing druggies. I ignored the nonsense that they spewed from their addled brains. It was part of the territory. But confused older people were different. I pandered to Estelle’s denial of her daughter’s death because no purpose would be served by me forcing the truth on her.

  “I’m still looking for Roscoe Hicks,” I said. “He’s on the run, moving from place to place.” That was the truth but it implied I was still looking for Jill.

  “I see.”

  I debated about whether to tell her about Marnee. The woman was obviously under enough stress as it was, being in denial that her daughter was dead. I decided I had no choice if I was to get to the bottom of what happened.

  “Have you ever heard of a woman named Marnee Wharton?”

  “I never met her, but Jill always mentioned her. They were... they are good friends. She works at an auto dealership as a mechanic, but apparently, she is talented with computers and always helped Jill with hers. How do you know about her?”

  “You asked me to investigate. That’s what I did. Ms. Wharton’s name came up. That’s all.” I didn’t think it was necessary for her to know yet that her son-in-law was in some sort of relationship with Wharton, so I didn’t tell her about Oglethorpe Court.

  “There’s something else I have to ask you about.” I sounded like a child reaching out to his grandmother. “I think you might know more than you realize or at least more than you are telling me. If I’m going to help, you have to share everything you know.”

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “My father found a key card from your hotel at one of the places where Hicks had been living.”

  She made a small gasp. “What do you mean your father found it?”

  “He was with me when I checked out where Hicks had been held up.”

  “I thought that your father had Alzheimer’s Disease and was in a home.”

  “He does. He is. He was helping me. It’s a long story.”

  “Mr. DeSantis, I’ve been thinking.”

  I knew from experience that when someone says the words “I’ve been thinking,” there is going to be a problem. But I wasn’t prepared for what she said next.

  “I’ve decided not to pursue the case.”

  “What are you talking about? You were the one who begged me to take on the case. You just asked me if I was making any progress.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she said.

  All kinds of thoughts raced through my head.

  “Has someone threatened you? Are you frightened?”

  “I’m only frightened when you yell.”

  I lowered my voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. But I’m confused. I know this is important to you. Why do you want to drop the investigation?”

  “I’m not totally dropping it. I’ve decided to let the police handle it.”

  “The police aren’t interested in the case.”

  “I’ll have to take my chances. I’ll send you a check for your trouble. Now, please drop it.”

  I had hoped to go to sleep thinking of my good time with Max that evening. Instead I was trying to figure out what spooked Estelle.

  21

  I HAD THE FEELING THAT Estelle was holding something important back from me and she really didn’t want to drop the case. She had already proved that she didn’t always tell the whole story when she didn’t tell me that she was notified of her daughter’s death. I decided to pursue it a little more even if it was only to satisfy my curiosity. Maybe if I came up with something solid she would change her mind and I would get paid in the end. Several calls to Estelle went unanswered. I found that she had checked out of her hotel.

  I was beginning to wonder if Estelle was afraid of Hicks. Maybe there was something to her theory that Hicks was a murdering kidnapper. If he had threatened Estelle, that might explain why she dropped the case and then disappeared. I decided to visit Marnee Wharton again to see if I could get more information out of her. I went back out to Oglethorpe Court the next morning to talk to her.

  The last time she slammed the door in my face before I had finished. This time, I was determined not to make that possible. I parked three doors down from 3751 Pine Barren Place and walked toward the ’98 Honda parked in the driveway. To my good fortune, the car was locked. I looked inside and a small red light blinked on the dashboard indicating the alarm was set. Perfect. I looked toward the house and saw no one. Then I checked out the street. Empty. I gave the side of the car a body slam and the alarm blared as I darted to the side of the house.

  It wasn’t long before I heard the front door open. Then the lights on the car blinked and the horn stopped. She reset the alarm with her remote without ever leaving the house, not even bothering to come out to see if someone was trying to break into her vehicle. Unbelievable. People have become so jaded.

  I waited a while. The heat of the day made sweat pour off my forehead. That same heat apparently kept the neighbors inside because there wasn’t a soul in sight. I ran up to the car and gave it another body slam before retreating once more to the side of the house.
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br />   “What the hell!” I could hear Marnee yell from around the corner. This time Marnee came out to the car and aimed the fob directly at the door handle. The alarm stopped.

  I stood directly behind Marnee. “Well, that’s better.”

  She gave a slight jump, composed herself, then turned to give me a look with those Cleopatra eyes that could have burned down a house. “Did you do this?” She spit out the words. “You did. You set off my alarm.”

  “Okay. I wanted to talk to you.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Watch your step!”

  She rushed toward me and gave me a shove that propelled us both into her neighbor’s yard.

  “You’re insane.” I said.

  “I’m insane? You purposely set off my alarm.”

  With that, the neighbor, a big guy with a Harley shirt and a shaved head, came running outside.

  “Leave the lady alone. Now!” he bellowed as he ran toward us. I may have let Marnee tackle me, but I wasn’t going to take a tackle from that raging bull. I was prepared to deck him when he stopped short and pointed to the white pebbles that made up Marnee’s lawn.

  “Holy Shit!” the neighbor yelled. “That’s a mother of a copperhead.”

  I looked to where I had been standing: a fat tan colored snake with brown cross bands was poised and ready to strike.

  The big dude darted back toward his place. “I don’t do snakes. Pull a gun on me and I’ll kick your ass before you can pull the trigger, but snakes... No freakin’ way.”

  “Chicken shit!” Marnee yelled after him.

  I heard his door close as I watched the snake slither under a bush.

  “That’s why you gave me a hit?”

  Marnee waved me off.

  “I did it for the snake. I thought if you saw it first, you might do something stupid like shoot it. You only have to give it space. It’s more interested in catching mice than attacking you.”

  I knew that. “I suppose you think I’m going to thank you. You didn’t have to tackle me.”

  “You didn’t have to set off my alarm.”

  “Did I?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “I can honestly say I didn’t touch your door. I came by to ask you about Hicks.

  “I told you, I don’t know where he is.”

  “You must have known that he had a place on Ava Island,” I said.

  “Well, if you know that why don’t you go there and look for him?”

  “I did and he wasn’t there. But he knew I was coming. He left me a note.”

  Marnee scoffed. “So, you think I told him you were looking for him? How would I do that? I don’t know how to contact him and that is the truth. Like I told you. If you find him, let me know. He owes me money.”

  “Well, do you know Estelle Brewer?”

  “Jill’s mother. I never met her in person, but Jill talked about her a lot.”

  “Do you know why Estelle might visit Roscoe Hicks?”

  “I imagine she’s still looking for Jill. But I can assure you, Jill is dead. I went with Roscoe to identify the body.”

  “Was that before or after he moved in with you?”

  Marnee looked as if she were going to explode. She stormed into the house and slammed the door in my face again. I started walking down the driveway to my truck.

  “I don’t owe you a damned explanation!” She was out on the porch again yelling after me.

  I turned and gave her my such-is-life smile, and looked toward where the snake had been. “Right. You don’t.”

  I got into my truck and looked in the mirror. Marnee was standing in the street with her hands on her hips. Then she started walking toward the truck. I rolled down the window.

  “I think that his sister has a store up in Hilton Head. It’s called the Bantam Gallery,” she called out.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that the first time I was here?”

  “I found out afterward with a little creative work on the computer. Don’t ask how.”

  The truth was that I didn’t give a damn about what Marnee had to hack to get the information. The only thing I was interested in was finding Hicks.

  “Got it,” I said.

  “Don’t forget what I told you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Watch your step.”

  I didn’t need her to tell me that.

  22

  I PUNCHED HILTON HEAD INTO my unreliable GPS and found that it should take less than an hour to get there if I hopped on I-95 North. Excellent, I didn’t have to use the freakin’ bridge. I wasn’t on the highway for five minutes when my phone rang. It was The Palms. At first, I wasn’t going to answer it, but I did.

  “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to take your father out.” Maryann’s voice was shrill. “He’s giving us a hard time insisting that ‘his friend’ is going to come to pick him up.”

  “Are you telling me to come and get him?”

  “I’m telling you something has to be done. We are not an Alzheimer’s facility.”

  This was getting old. “And I had nothing to do with you taking him on as a guest. He has a contract with you. I wasn’t involved. What do you want me to do?”

  Maryann’s voice softened a bit. “We have a tour coming through this afternoon with some extremely important people. I’m asking you to take him off our hands for a few hours. Please?”

  Please? She actually sounded desperate. My first impulse was to tell her to go to hell, but that might come back to bite me in the ass. I agreed to make a detour to The Palms and pick up Big Al.

  *****

  I had promised Johnson that I’d keep him informed if I got a lead on Hicks. I sent him a text explaining that I was on my way to pick up my father, and then heading to Hilton Head to check out a place called the Bantam Gallery.

  When I got to The Palms Maryann and another nurse had Big Al waiting outside. He was wearing his bush hat and holding the walking stick. It occurred to me that in his prime he was probably a pretty dapper PI.

  When I got out of the truck the nurse told me that he was excited to be “working on a case” with his detective friend, a.k.a. me. Maryann was grateful for my help.

  Everyone was happy. Except me. Especially after we got on the road and the GPS led me to the entrance of the Savannah Bridge. Apparently, Route 17 was the shortest way to Hilton Head from the Palms. I began to sweat. A few days before, I had heard on the news of a major accident on the bridge involving a logging truck. I thought of the truck that took out Psycho back in New Haven. A sign said there was an exit ahead to avoid the bridge, but it was getting late so I decided I would take the damned bridge anyway. As I passed the exit I gripped the wheel determined to make the best of it.

  *****

  “Look at that big bridge!” Big Al said as we got on the long, curved approach to the span. “The damned thing goes straight up!”

  “Yeah,” I said as we merged on to the bridge, the horizon nowhere in sight.

  He was actually bouncing in his seat.

  “I mean straight up! Like a mountain. He-yah!”

  “Yeah,” I said. I could feel my foot tapping the gas. The ride got jerky, but that only made the old man love it more.

  “Look at those towers. And the cables. It looks like a sailing ship!” You would think he never saw a damned bridge before.

  “Okay.” My voice came out like I had a frog in my throat.

  “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit! A giant ship is going under us. How damned good is that?” He lifted his hat and waved it in the air.

  “Good. Now calm down. You’re distracting me while I’m driving.” I stole a side glance to catch a huge container ship approaching the bridge. I hoped the pilot knew what he was doing because it looked like it was going to be a close fit.

  My hands were feeli
ng numb and I shook first one and then the other to get the blood flowing in them again. I cracked the window open and took another deep breath. The sea air did the trick for a moment. I pushed on. Then with another stolen peep at my father, I could see he was staring at me.

  “Are you doing okay? You look pale.” Big Al’s knitted brow didn’t do anything to build up my confidence.

  “All of a sudden you’re concerned?” The words came out a little harsher than I had intended.

  “Shit. I’ll drive if you want. I love this. Pull over,” he said.

  “I’m not stopping on the bridge.” We reached the crest of the bridge and the road ahead looked like the downward plunge of a roller coaster complete with a sharp jog in it.

  For a split second, my vision blurred then came back, like a digital hiccup that loses the signal and freezes up the TV screen. I turned on the air conditioner and dared a glimpse at Al. He was staring at the road ahead. I think he may have been praying. It seemed like an hour, but at last we got to the bottom of the bridge only to find another long, but thankfully low, bridge crossing into South Carolina.

  “See, no problem,” I said. “I’m fine. Why is your seatbelt off?”

  Had he been ready to bail out? He re-clicked his belt as we came off the bridge. As he did, my cell rang. I answered it with the Bluetooth.

  “It’s Max. Is that you, Al?”

  We both answered “Yes.”

  “It’s for me,” I said to my father.

  “Where are you?” Max said.

  “We’re heading to Hilton Head at the moment,” I said. “I have my father with me. It’s a long story.”

  “Hi Max. You know my detective friend, too?” The old man was getting on my nerves, and I vowed never to do a favor for Maryann again.

  “I do know him, Big Al. Did you go over the bridge?”

  “Of course. It was fine,” I said.

  “He almost passed out,” Big Al said.

  “Are you okay?” Max sounded worried. “Did you know you could have taken 95 to 278 to avoid the bridge? It would only take a few minutes longer.”