by Jason Deas
“Why?”
“Because I’ve studied lies. Faces do different things with different types of lies and I wanted to read her face.”
“And?”
“It was definitely an ashamed lie.”
“Ashamed of what?”
“My guess is she’s sleeping with Big E so he’ll let her live at the marina. That’s all. Just a guess.”
“Why wouldn’t she just get an apartment or a house?”
“I imagine she likes living on her boat. Who knows why people do the things they do.”
“How about I check Big E out this afternoon, and you see if you can have a chat with Nina Oglethorpe.”
“Sounds good. We need a photo of the front of Big E’s boat. Do you think one of your deputies can find it and snap one?”
“I’ll do it.”
“Really? Are you going to drive a canoe around the lake and look for his boat? And if you find it, you’ll park your canoe and take a couple of photos?”
“Have I told you lately that you’re hilarious?”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I wonder why?”
Benny laughed and pushed the throttle down as Vernon chuckled and settled into his seat.
Vernon spotted Big E’s boat at the Sleepy Cove Marina. Benny slowed the boat.
“That was easy,” he told Benny. “I have a little point and shoot camera in the car.”
As Benny tied the boat, he noticed Big E walking out of Donny’s office toward his boat.
“Hurry and get the camera. I’ll try to make small talk with him.”
Vernon hurried up the dock and Big E yelled to Donny that he would get him next time. Benny heard his southern drawl and wondered how much he weighed. He guessed he was pushing 350 or more.
“Afternoon,” Benny said approaching Big E.
“Afternoon,” he responded without making eye contact. He tried to step past Benny. Benny stood his ground in the middle of the narrow dock.
“Can I help you?”
“You don’t remember me?” Benny tried.
“You think everybody should remember you because you used to be some hotshot FBI agent and you’ve been on TV a few times?”
“No. We’ve met twice. That is why you should remember me.”
“Oh,” Big E said with a sigh. “So we have. How do you do Mr. James?”
“Call me Benny, Mr. Frederick.”
“My father is Mr. Frederick. I’m Ernest, but prefer Big E.”
“I did remember but didn’t want to assume I could call you that.”
“Is there something you needed to speak to me about? I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
Big E looked over his shoulder to see Vernon approaching.
“Is that the cop under Chief Neighbors?”
“Yes.”
“Is he coming to talk to me?”
Benny could tell he was becoming very nervous and wasn’t sure how to play his hand. Benny nodded his head slowly.
“Oh Jesus,” Big E said. “I knew it was wrong and I knew it was illegal, but I didn’t think that anybody really cared.
“Why wouldn’t anybody care?” Benny said as Vernon arrived next to the two men.
“It’s just not a big deal,” Big E said.
Benny lifted his eyebrows to Vernon signaling he wasn’t sure what was going on.
“So you don’t think it’s a big deal?” Vernon said. “Are you crazy?”
“It’s only a hundred dollars!” Big E said.
Now Benny and Vernon had no idea what Big E was talking about.
“And?” Vernon questioned, not sure what he was questioning.
“And gambling with a bookie in Georgia is wrong.”
Benny’s and Vernon’s eyes shot open wide with understanding.
“You’re damn right it is,” Benny said. “Vernon, can I please have a word with this man alone?” Benny pointed his thumb toward Big E’s boat and Vernon hustled over to snap some photos.
Benny grabbed Big E’s chunky arm and wheeled him around to where his back was to Vernon.
“His dad lost all their family’s money one time growing up because of gambling,” Benny said beginning his lie. “Vernon just sniffed out this little thing going on here and he’s all bent out of shape about it. Let me see if he’ll let you slide on this one, but you’ll owe me one, OK?”
“Anything,” Big E said with fervent nod.
Benny had noticed Vernon was finished taking photos and walked down the dock to him.
Benny looked Vernon in the eyes. “Just walk past him in a huff and tell him he owes me one. I’ll explain later.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Vernon said huffing up the dock and playing along. He stopped in front of Big E. “You owe that man a big one. He just did you a big favor.”
“I do. I sure do.”
Vernon walked past him and yelled back, “Get out of my county.”
As Big E disappeared, Benny and Vernon had another good laugh as Benny explained to Vernon what had just happened.
As Vernon headed back to the police department, Benny drove back toward the Oglethorpe place. He tried to get Vernon to come along without any luck. Driving through town, Benny had an idea of how he could keep Uncle Karl busy so he could have some time alone with Nina.
Pulling into Red’s driveway, he spotted him in his garden as usual. Hearing the Jeep, Red jerked his head and a giant smile streaked across his face.
“Bendy!” he called, running toward the Jeep. Benny quickly got out. “You come and make a visit on Red.”
“I did. I was about to head out to the Oglethorpe place and wondered if you wanted to ride along.”
“Red not knowing the Ogerthorpe’s.”
“It’s Oglethorpe’s,” Benny corrected. “Uncle Karl’s last name is Oglethorpe.”
Red’s face lit up. “I going! Let Red get a bag of yummy tomatoes for he.”
“OK. No rush, Red. Can I use your bathroom?”
“Bendy can be doing anything he like.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
Benny had not been inside the house in a while. He and Red usually talked in the yard by the garden or on the front porch. He entered through the front door and stopped. Paintings covered the walls.
“Red!” Benny called.
“You not liking?” Red asked rushing through the front door.
“Where did you get these?”
“Red make.”
“You made these?”
“Yep. Red make.”
“How did you make these?” Benny could not believe Red had made the paintings, but had never known Red to lie before.
“Red using paint and brushes.”
“That’s not what I meant. How do you know how to paint?”
“You just put you little brush in paint and put all you colors on you picture.”
Benny looked at the paintings and at Red. He looked back and forth with wonder. The paintings were of vegetables, gardens and sunlight lifting vegetation into the sky.
“How?” was all Benny could muster.
“Red just look at he garden and paint what he see. It easy, Bendy. Art bees easy.”
“You amaze me Red. You never cease to amaze me.”
“You maze me, Bendy. Red be making you a painting but it not be ready.”
“I can’t wait,” Benny said finally, leaving the room and making his way to the bathroom.
In the Jeep on the way to the Oglethorpe place, Benny told Red how he wished to have a few minutes alone with Nina. As far as Benny could tell, Red understood his job was to keep Uncle Karl in the studio and out of their way.
Uncle Karl peeked his head out of the studio as he heard the gravel crunching under the vehicle’s tires. It wasn’t hard for him to notice Red as he had the window down waving. Uncle Karl’s serious look brightened.
“I bring you some tomatoes,” Red said exiting the car and handing Uncle Karl the brown paper sack. “Red owing you only
976 more.”
Uncle Karl opened the crumpled sack and peered inside. “How do you do it Red?”
“Tomato can be hard and Red promise he Mama he never tell the secret of world’s best tomato.”
“You can tell your Uncle Karl.”
“You not Red real uncle.” Uncle Karl’s face fell, and Red recognized his disappointment. “I sorry Uncle Karl. From now on in Red brain, you Red real uncle.” Uncle Karl’s face returned to happy. “Now show Red you new paintings.”
“Follow me.”
Uncle Karl never acknowledged Benny or looked in his direction. He laughed to himself and walked to the front door. The doorbell hung from a suspicious looking wire. Benny was sure plantation houses did not have wired doorbells and wondered when it had been installed. Whenever it had, it was obvious by the condition of it that it had been a long time.
Benny doubted the doorbell worked but pulled the hanging wires and the device up to himself anyway. He noticed a dull orange glow behind the button and pushed. As he pushed the button, he stood still and listened but did not hear if it actually worked or not. As he tried to decide if he should push the button again or knock, he heard footsteps approaching.
Angel pulled the massive door open. “Hi.”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. Uncle Karl is in his studio.”
“I saw him. I’m actually here to see your mother. Is she home?”
“Uh, yeah. She never leaves.”
“Oh,” was all Benny could think to say remembering how Rene had characterized her.
“And, she doesn’t like visitors, or people to be quite honest. Probably why she never leaves.”
“It’s important. Will you ask her for me?”
“OK. She’ll say no.”
“Tell her it’s the cops and if she doesn’t come speak to me, I will come to her.”
“You would do that?”
“No. Just give it a shot.”
“I’ll give it a shot.”
Angel disappeared into the house and Benny took in the room. He marveled at the high ceilings and wood floors. The paint peeling from the walls almost looked intentional as it made an incredible texture. The pieces were long and mostly curled. Pieces that had fallen were sprinkled around the floor. A broom and dust pan stood in a corner. Benny wondered if the house was safe to inhabit. Listening for footsteps and not hearing any, he crept forward and looked into the next room. It happened to be the dining room. A white sheet covered a giant table. Benny lifted a corner and peered underneath. He saw what he figured to be the original antique table, set for at least a dozen or more with dishes he imagined were nearly priceless. Giant oil paintings adorned the walls and a stunning chandelier hung from the ceiling. The chandelier was dusty and littered with paint peelings. Benny heard footsteps and hurried back to the foyer.
Angel emerged smiling. “She said she will see you in her studio.”
“Wow. Did you have to threaten her?”
“No. I told her you were handsome. She has a soft spot for handsome men.”
Benny blushed. Angel turned and he followed her down the hall. At the end of the hall was a set of double doors and before she opened them, Angel paused and turned around.
“This is where it gets really ugly,” she said solemnly. “The front of the house is bad, but reality sets in right here.”
Angel pushed the double doors open and the house changed. The walls that were peeling on the one side were now brown and damp. The serviceable wood floors from the front suddenly transformed to cracked, splintered, and uneven wood. Benny spotted at least a half-dozen five-gallon buckets placed strategically throughout the hallway to catch drops of rain.
Angel noticed his face. “Told you. Mom’s studio is at the back of the house. Watch where you step.”
Benny followed Angel down the ominous hall and wondered what it looked like behind the closed doors along the way. He almost stopped Angel to ask her if he could take a look at one of the rooms but decided it would be rude. At the end of the hall was an out of place, blindingly white door in which light poured from underneath.
“This is where the magic happens,” Angel said. With that, she turned and walked away.
Benny watched her vanish. He lightly tapped on the door thinking Nina must certainly know he had arrived. He listened for footsteps and didn’t hear any. Still silent, the light coming from under the door changed and Benny could tell there was movement.
Nina slowly pulled the door open and looked Benny in the eyes. Light radiated from behind her body and Benny stood still, speechless, lost in her softness and blue eyes. Nina smiled but still did not speak. She waved her hand for Benny to come inside and he followed, still without words.
The room was the brightest place Benny had ever been inside. It seemed as though everything in the room was warm, vibrating, and radiant. He watched Nina walk across the room and turn to face him. Light glimmered from her hair. Her cheeks were soft and delicate. Benny wondered when they had last seen the sun. As Benny studied her, the word “soft” kept floating across his brain. Her hair seemed soft, as well as her skin. Her body was not petite or big, but soft. Her clothes were soft. Her stare was soft, and so was her smile.
“Forgive the disastrous state of my home.” Her voice—soft.
“Shit happens.” Benny could not believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. “I mean, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. This type of thing takes more than one generation to happen. Why don’t we blame the last and leave it at that?”
“Let’s,” Nina answered. “I hear you have met Karl?”
“I call him Uncle Karl for some reason and yes, we’ve met.”
“He’s not well.”
“You don’t say?”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No,” Benny answered, although he was.
“He may seem lucid and just a bit off, but he is on some very powerful medications. Sometimes he forgets to take some of them.”
“I did see him talking to an ostrich. And he eats ice cream for breakfast every day.”
“Did he tell you he owns the company?” Nina asked softly.
“Yes, he did tell me that.”
“He doesn’t. That’s one of his lies.”
“But.” Benny thought of the rubber duckies glued to the ice cream truck and the backwards music. “But it was all so strange like his personality. I thought he had to be the one to create it?”
“He reflects.”
“He does what?”
“He reflects the personalities he is consumed with at the time. He is always different. If you talk to him long enough, he will start to sound like you. Have you noticed it?”
“I haven’t.”
“He hasn’t known you long enough then. After three exposures to you—he will be able to mimic you perfectly.”
“No way.”
“Just wait.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“Only if he sees dangerous. It’s one of the reasons we don’t have television. Besides all of the other obvious reasons.” Nina laughed softly.
“What about the art?” Benny asked.
“He’s never made a piece of art in his life.”
Benny blanked.
Nina laughed.
“You don’t get shocked often, Mr. James. It’s quite cute.”
Nina blushed and began fiddling with some of her art supplies.
“Then who made it all?”
“I did.”
Benny’s face turned white.
“Even the sculptures?” Benny asked.
“Yes. Even the sculptures.” Nina studied an unmarked jar that sat among another dozen or so other unmarked jars and unscrewed the lid. A fan behind her pushed the air toward Benny.
Benny thought the lights were getting brighter and he wondered how that could happen when they were already the brightest lights he had ever seen. Blood bubbled up from his toes to his head and swirled. Benny fainted.
C
hapter 8
Chief Neighbors had a mirror inside his desk drawer. He pulled the drawer open and checked himself. He closed it and picked up the phone. He had a redhead and an urgent call waiting.
“You had better get your boy in check,” Big E said.
“Come again, my boy?” Chief Neighbors did not have too much going for him morally, but he was protective of his officers.
“You heard me, Charles. Your boy is out of line,” Big E repeated.
“I’ll speak to him,” Chief Neighbors said, slumping down in his chair. Although Big E’s marina was in a different county, they shared the same lake and Big E didn’t like owning only half of anything. He gave generously to Chief Neighbors’ reelection campaign every four years.
“You’d better,” Big E said, hanging up the phone.
Chief Neighbors stood and began pacing his office.
Big E began pacing his as well. His office overlooked the lake with a picture perfect view. The lake house sat atop a steep slope. Big E sometimes thought of himself as a King looking down on his kingdom as he peered across the waters. Not being one who cared to exercise or exert too much energy, Big E had paid big bucks for a paving company to construct a wide sidewalk so he could drive a golf cart up and down to get to and from the dock and his boats.
The office was converted from a home he bought dirt cheap in foreclosure. He turned the spacious great room into a boardroom of sorts, including a large conference table to one side, which had seldom been used. Big E had gutted two of the bedrooms to make the great room even larger. With the help of an interior designer and some talented carpenters, the room rivaled New York city’s finest office spaces.
Although Big E was not an art aficionado, he collected pieces, as he saw art as a sign of wealth. Expensive paintings graced the walls and eclectic sculptures were thoughtfully placed throughout the room. He rarely studied the paintings as they meant very little to him. One of the paintings did pique his curiosity and he found himself lost in it more and more. Something about it tugged at his mind. It was painted by a local artist—Nina Oglethorpe.
Chief Neighbors summoned Vernon and Benny to his office. They arrived separately, but at the same time.
“What’s this about?” Benny asked as the two men neared the front door.