Sam gently grabbed my hand. He tried to drag me over by the stereo. “Dance with me.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I could feel Samantha’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my head.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Sam kept on insisting.
I looked around for an excuse to get away, and I found what I was looking for in Richard, who was standing in front of the grill. “I’m going to go say hello to your dad.”
After wiggling out of Sam’s grip, I went over to Richard. He looked like an older, greyer version of Sam. I expected to find him drunk as well but miraculously, he was stone cold sober.
“Hey, honey,” said Richard when he saw me. He wiped his hands on his apron and hugged me.
“Hey. Big turnout, huh?”
“Yeah, although I don’t know how. I only told the pastor and Sam about it.”
“Social media. Nothing stays secret these days.”
“Well, I’m glad it didn’t. It’s been awhile since I’ve had this much fun.”
It was true, Richard was having fun. I could see it on his face, in his body language and hear it in his voice. He was even clean-shaven. And he smelled of cologne, not alcohol.
“So, what are you cooking?”
We both turned our attention to the grill.
“Some ribs, some chicken and of course hotdogs and hamburgers. What are you having?”
I put my hands up. “I’m good.”
“Nonsense, what are having?”
“No, really, I’m not hungry. I had a big breakfast.”
“Ribs, have some ribs.” Richard grabbed a paper plate and loaded it with half a rack. There was no refusing it. And the old man was so happy, I didn’t want to upset him.
“Okay, ribs it is.”
I spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening just relaxing. There were some old friends at the barbeque that I got the chance to catch with. Sam relaxed a bit and most of my time there was with him, talking.
Richard had bought some fireworks from Delaware a month earlier. He took them out and put on a little show for everyone still there when night fell. Overall it was a great time. But all the joy and revelry was short-lived. The next day, there’d be more drama.
A Close Call
I sat in the first floor of Reid Private Investigations. On a couch, across from me, was Mrs. Janet Wyette. She had hired me to find out if her husband was cheating on her. He was.
Cases involving infidelity were hard. Actually, finding out if the client’s spouse was sleeping with someone else was easy. Figuring out how to tell the client was the hard part.
I used to just be blunt. Several sobbing clients made me reconsider that approach. Even though I had nothing personally invested in the cases, they did. And I had to be aware of that.
Mrs. Wyette was a sweet lady. She was a little on the heavy side, but nothing out of place these days. And she was pretty. Perhaps she could wear a little less make up, but that was not uncommon for women her age.
Her husband had apparently had an appetite for someone younger. Specifically, he desired one of his students. He was a teacher at George Mason, my alma mater. I had actually heard of him. His reputation was that of a creep. One of my friends had told me that he hit on her all the time.
I followed Professor Wyette for three days. He told his wife he was going to a workshop out of town. In reality, he went to Virginia Beach with his twenty-year-old mistress.
When I came back from Virginia Beach, I had about forty pictures of the professor and his student together. Some were just of them on the beach and boardwalk. Others were more intimate. I called in Mrs. Wyette to share with her the bad news.
“Thank you for coming by, Mrs. Wyette. I have some unfortunate news to share with you.” The tone of my voice was soft and caring.
“He is cheating on me, isn’t he?” I was taken aback. Sure, I knew Mrs. Wyette had some suspicions but the fact that she had already made up her mind made my job much easier.
“I’m afraid so.”
“So he didn’t go to a workshop in Norfolk?”
I shook my head.
Mrs. Wyette’s bottom lip quivered. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or sadness. Maybe it was both. “Where…?” Her voice cracked. “Where did he go?”
“Virginia Beach.”
“With whom?”
I took that as my cue to reveal the photos. Before our meeting, I had printed out the photos from my cell. They were in a manila envelope which I handed to Mrs. Wyette.
“He was with one of his students. I observed him leaving the school with her. They went to her apartment. Then they went to the beach. Her name is…”
Mrs. Wyette finished the sentence for me. “Sarah. I know her.” She put her hand to her mouth and grimaced. “We had her over for dinner before. John said she was going to be his new TA. “
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wyette. These things … they’re never easy.”
Mrs. Wyette put her hands down. She closed her eyes and regained her composure. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, dear. My husband is the one who’s going to be sorry. You better believe that!”
I reached over to the table between us and retrieved one of my business cards. “I don’t remember if I gave you one of these. In case you get a divorce and your lawyer needs to talk to me, have them call the bottom number. It’s my cell phone.”
Mrs. Wyette stood up. She took the card and the manila envelope. “Thank you. How much do I owe you?”
“I’ll send a bill in the mail.”
I walked Mrs. Wyette out of my office and to her car. It was getting dark and downtown was no place for an older woman, alone at night. Junkies, or maybe worse, roamed those overgrown streets and abandoned buildings.
While escorting Mrs. Wyette, I noticed something strange down the street. There was a black SUV. Its windows were tinted and engine off. I couldn’t tell if anyone was inside but it was parked in front of a long, condemned hardware store.
I went back to the office to close up. First I had to turn off the lights upstairs. Then I did the same on the first floor, but not before getting my gun. On my way out, I locked the front door.
My car was parked out behind the building. To get there, I had to go out the front then walk half a block, to the corner, and then go around back. Downtown Stone Harbor had no alleyways. Everything was connected. And I didn’t like parking out front. The degenerates that inhabited the neighborhood would always be sniffing around my car.
Before I turned the corner, the lights on the black SUV parked down the street came on. I didn’t hear a car door close, so whoever was inside must’ve been there all along. It would be a lie to say that I wasn’t a bit freaked out at that point. After what had happened to Lisa’s family and her dog, I had every reason to be.
I speed-walked to the back of the buildings. There was some relief when I saw my car. It was all alone.
When I drove back to Main Street, the black SUV was still there. I started to drive away and it started to follow. Part of me thought I was just being paranoid as my foot grew heavier on the gas pedal. That stopped after the third right turn.
It was pretty clear to me that I was being followed. I sped up. The black SUV responded by doing the same. With my attention on my rear view mirror, I didn’t notice the sharp turn ahead. When I did, I slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel.
My car screeched and slid to a halt. It turned so I ended up perpendicular to the road. The black SUV kept coming. In fact, it sped up. I tried to straighten up my vehicle, but I was panicked.
Time was running out. The SUV was going to t-bone me. At the last moment, I managed to turn my car enough to dodge the collision. My pursuers sped by, then slammed on their brakes. They hit the guard rail, but not hard enough to cause any serious damage.
I drove as fast as I could back down the way I had come. There was enough separation that I was able to turn down a road out of sight. As soon as I was on the new street, I looked for a hi
ding place.
Of the two or three homes on the small street, there was one that had a driveway that was mostly hidden by bushes. That was the driveway I chose to hide in. Immediately upon pulling in, I turned off all my lights and killed the engine.
My heart was racing as I climbed into my back seat. I aimed my gun out the window. And I waited. It was the longest two minutes of my life.
Time seemed to stop when I saw headlights light up the road. When the black SUV passed by, it was in slow motion. I could see the person in the passenger seat and the back. All the windows were down, making their mask covered faces visible. The masks were white plastic rabbits.
I waited until they passed, then I thought I should wait a little more, and so I sat in my car in the dark for another fifteen minutes. Luckily, there was nobody home at my impromptu hiding place. Once I was sure that it was safe, I pulled out of the driveway and made my way to Briar Gardens.
Firebird
When I got home, I took a shower and went straight to bed. My ordeal on the way home had been exhausting. It also did a number on my nerves. Sleep seemed like the only remedy.
I don’t know how long I was lying in bed before drifting off. It’s impossible to know for sure. Funny how that always seems to be the case. You’d think that just once you’d remember.
Before I knew it, both my feet were planted firmly in dream land. In the dream, I was in the Fresh Horizons rehab facility. For whatever reason, I was walking down the hall. The further I went, the more the hall seemed to stretch. No matter how fast I went, there was no end.
I heard the roar of a revving engine behind me. When I turned, I saw the black SUV. It charged down the hallway, straight towards me. I tried to run but my legs wouldn’t move as fast as I wanted.
The black SUV was only feet from me. I prepared for the impact but suddenly found myself outside Pastor Pritchard’s church. Lisa was standing outside. Or at least I thought it was Lisa. It kind of looked like her but people in my dreams often don’t fully resemble their real selves. She was trying to talk to me but I couldn’t understand a word.
A fire erupted inside the church. It didn’t start small and gradually grow. No, it was out of control from the get go. My attention went away from the fire to the grass around the church. Hundreds of white rabbits were bouncing around. Half of them were staring straight at me.
Something started to emerge out of the fire. It took a little while for me to realize what it was. I’d seen it before, when I was younger. Out of the church rose a bird made of golden flames. Though more detailed, it reminded me of the firebird on the hood of Dad’s Trans Am. The golden, burning bird even made the same pose when it was free.
I heard a gunshot. My stomach felt funny. When I looked down I saw a growing blood stain. Then I woke up.
That time, I was prepared. Ever since the Dennis Clark case a couple months before, I had made sure my notepad was right next to me on my nightstand. With the memory of it still fresh, I recorded my whole dream on the small pieces of paper.
I hoped that it would become useful. Maybe there was a clue somewhere in the weirdness. Sherlock Holmes used to get high before solving some of his greatest cases, so I figure it might not have been such a long shot.
Repetition
July 5 started with a phone call. I had managed to fall back asleep only to be woken up by my ring tone. It was Sam. Why was he calling so early? It was only five in the morning. The sun hadn’t even fully risen yet.
“Hello?” My voice was groggy and vaguely pissed off.
“Sorry to wake you up, but something’s happened that I think you should know about.” Sam sounded wide awake.
“What is it?” I managed to sit up.
“Remember the abandoned marina you followed Martin Goldberg to a couple of months ago?” All Sam knew was that I had followed Marty there. What he didn’t know about was me being drugged and almost drowned. It was better that he didn’t know. Otherwise he wouldn’t leave me alone about how dangerous it was. The last thing I wanted was a lecture.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“It’s in flames.”
“Come again?”
“It’s on fire.”
Somebody set fire to the abandoned marina. The chances of it being an accident were very slim to none, if you asked me. No electricity ran through its ancient wires. I was willing to bet that an unlit cigarette wasn’t the cause.
“Any idea why?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. But the fire marshal from Norfolk is here. The fire department has it under control. In fact, it’s almost out.”
“Do they think it was arson?”
“They didn’t say.”
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s probably not a coincidence that there were two fires in a couple of days. I’ll take some pictures once it’s safe. I’ll send them to you. Let me know what you think.”
Sam hung up. I got out of bed and into the shower. It was the best way to wake me up. A cup of coffee afterwards helped a lot, too.
By the time I was done with my shower and coffee, Sam had sent me his pictures. He sent them via email. I opened them up. There were about twenty different photos of the remains of the marina.
Most of the photos told me nothing. It was a bunch of burnt wood. Near the end of the group, I found one that caught my attention. In a pile of ash there were pieces of metal. They were melted, exactly like the piping at the church.
I closed the pictures and opened up my browser. What I needed to know was what burned hot enough to melt metals like steel, iron or copper? It didn’t take too long to find an answer.
Thermite. It was a pyrotechnic powder made of iron oxide, aluminum powder and magnesium. It could burn at up to and over two thousand, five hundred degrees Celsius. That was over four thousand, five hundred in Fahrenheit. Certainly hot enough to melt metals. Though it was mostly used in demolition and welding, it was possible to build thermite bombs.
So, if thermite was involved, maybe it was traceable. The next step was figuring out who might use thermite, and who had access. I was relieved to learn that it was a highly regulated substance. Most college chemistry departments could order thermite or the materials to produce it. They got it from chemical suppliers such as Chesapeake Chemicals.
Other than Chesapeake Chemicals, only one other place locally could obtain thermite. It was the Metal Works. I knew the Works well. The lamp in my bedroom was made there. And it was only a couple of minutes outside Stone Harbor.
Metal Works
Before heading out to the Metal Works, I stopped by the local high school. Jefferson High was just outside of Stone Harbor. Teens from towns like Stone Harbor and Saluda all attended Jefferson. I had attended Jefferson.
It was an old building. I remember my high school history teacher telling us that is was built in the early 1900s. The exterior of the structure showed its age. Pieces of the brick were falling off. Once there was a sign out front with their mascot, a knight. That sign had long since been overtaken by weeds.
I hadn’t been back to Jefferson High School since I had graduated over a decade prior. It felt strange. Even the front doors felt heavier than I remembered.
Once inside, I saw the same familiar scuffed-up linoleum floor and rows of blue lockers lining the walls. I got lost once, but a friendly member of the staff helped me find my way to the teacher’s lounge. It was after three in the afternoon, so no classes were in session.
“Hi, I’m looking for Mr. Grant?” I asked the first person I saw in the lounge. It was a mousy woman with thick glasses.
“That’s me!” I heard a voice coming from a circle of large padded chairs, a couple of feet away. A single hand was up in the air.
I walked over to the man who had raised his hand. He was a man about five feet nine inches tall. That wasn’t that big, but taller than me. Atop his head was a horseshoe of hair surrounding a bald top.
“Mr. Grant?” I asked.
The man got up. “Th
at would be me, yes.”
“My name is Riley Reid. I’m a private investigator. I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me?”
Mr. Grant was a little taken aback. It was understandable. “Have I done something wrong?”
I forced a laugh to make Mr. Grant feel more comfortable. “Don’t worry, its nothing like that. Do you want to go somewhere more private?”
Mr. Grant and I went out in the hallway, which was pretty much empty.
“Have you heard about the series of fires in Stone Harbor recently?” I asked, eager to get the mini-interrogation over with.
Jamie Garrett - Riley Reid 02 - Fire and Lies Page 3