Traverse Bound

by Jack Gibby

  Her father was on the telephone, sitting behind a huge wooden desk. He was leaning back in his leather chair, dressed in a finely tailored grey suit, one foot up on the desk.

  “Absolutely,” he said into the telephone. “I think that’s a tremendous deal. Let’s go down that rabbit hole and see if we can make it work for us.”

  Michael paused, and he looked toward the door. When he saw that Missy was waiting for him, he smiled warmly.

  “Let me call you back later,” said Michael into the phone. “I’ve got a meeting I almost forgot about.” He looked to Missy again and winked. “Great, thank you.”

  Michael ended the call and tossed the phone onto the desk. He stood up and walked around to the other side. He was a tall, slim man with dark hair that was going grey. He had it slicked back on the top, and thinned out on the sides. He didn’t wear a tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. Opening his arms wide, he welcomed Missy into his office.

  Missy walked inside the office, and up to her father. She hugged him, and he adoringly returned the hug.

  “Welcome, baby,” said Michael. He kissed her head. “I don’t remember the last time I saw you here at Emperor.”

  “It has been a while,” Missy said, stepping back from their hug and smiling.

  “Your mother told me you might be stopping by,” Michael said knowingly. “Have a seat,” he said, extending his hand toward a chair in front of his desk.

  As Missy obeyed and sat down, Michael rounded the desk once more and dropped back into his own chair. He folded his hands and looked across the desk with a blithe smile on his lips, waiting for his daughter to speak first.

  “As you know,” said Missy. “I’ve been a bit shaken up ever since the shooting at the marina. I’m doing okay,” she corrected, waving her hands. “But there was still some weirdness going on there, I’ve felt a little unsafe, and I decided to take a leave of absence from my job there.”

  “Your mother told me,” said Michael with a knowing expression on his face. “It’s completely understandable, baby. To think, that kind of violence happening in our town. It’s unconscionable.”

  “Right,” said Missy. “But I know I’ve got to do something,” she continued. “For work. I can’t just freeload off of you and Mom, which is what I feel like I’m doing.”

  “Oh no,” Michael assured her. “You’re not freeloading. Sweetie, we love having you at home. We know you’ll get out on your own eventually. It took your brother some time, too.”

  “I know,” Missy said. “It’s just a pride thing, you know?”

  “Yes, I understand,” Michael said with a smile. “It runs in the family.”

  “So I’m swallowing my pride a bit here,” she went on. “By coming to you and… well, Daddy, I’m asking you for a job.”

  Michael clapped his hands together and shot up from his chair. He was obviously excited by Missy’s proposition. For Michael, this was a celebration. But for Missy, it didn’t feel so great.

  “Baby, you know there’s always a job waiting for you here,” he said with excitement. “I’ve got the perfect thing for you, something I know you’ll be good at.”

  “Yeah?” replied Missy. “What is it?”

  “I need someone to build a greater sense of community among the wineries here in Traverse City,” Michael said, slipping back down into his chair. “A liaison, as it were. I need a positive, affable, smart, savvy individual to do this. It’s immensely helpful that you’re a Marlowe, and hey—you’re a beautiful young woman and that goes a long way with a position like this.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” said Missy. “What kind of community are you trying to build?”

  “I want to ease some of the tensions, dear,” he said. “End some of the conflicts and competition. I want to cross-promote. I want to make Traverse City wines as big as wines from Napa. I want to put us on the map. We need to get everybody involved.” When Michael said this, he spun his finger around in the air dramatically.

  “Okay,” said Missy, coming around to the idea. “That doesn’t sound bad.”

  “It’s not bad, not at all,” Michael replied. “And like I said, I can think of no better candidate for the position than my lovely daughter.”

  “I accept,” Missy said. She reached her hand across the desk. Michael quickly took it, and the two shook.

  “I’m over the moon,” said Michael. “I’ve always wanted to have you on our team. I knew I’d get you eventually. I had a feeling.”

  Missy did feel a bit bad for taking the job. It almost felt as though she had given up on doing things for herself. But seeing her father so happy that she’d accepted, it assuaged her worry just a bit. It felt good to make him happy.

  “When do I start?” Missy asked.

  “Let me get a couple things in order,” Michael said. “Let’s say next Monday. I’ll have you meet with Wes McMullin—you know Wes, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Of course you do,” said Michael. Wes had been Michael’s chief operations manager for years. “You’ll meet with Wes, and he’ll have some better direction for you. Please do me a favor, baby, and when you come in, dress… you know… business casual. Dress nice. The boating theme, it’s cute, but it’s not on brand for us.”

  “I get it,” Missy said with a nod.

  “This is going to be a big job, I think,” said Michael. “Big for us, and big for you. I hope you’re prepared to take it on.”

  “I am,” replied Missy.

  “That’s great, baby,” Michael said, smiling big. “Really happy to have you on board.”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” Missy said. Her smile was demure as she stood up from her seat. “I’ll see you at home, then.”

  “Definitely,” said Michael. “I hope you have a nice rest of your day.”

  “You too,” said Missy. She offered him one more simple smile before turning and making her way toward the door.

  “Missy?” Michael called after her.

  “Yes?” she said, stopping in her tracks and turning back to face him.

  “That student of yours,” he said. “Who was there with you when you witnessed the shooting. What did you say his name was again?”

  “Gannon Dunn,” said Missy. “Why?”

  “Oh, no reason,” Michael said, the smile returning to his lips. “I just remembered he had such an odd name and I couldn’t think of it. Thanks for jogging my memory.”

  “Yeah, no problem,” said Missy, feeling a bit lost from the exchange.

  “Have a great day, Missy,” beamed Michael.

  “Thanks,” she said. Missy gave a small wave to her father, and then she left his office with a strange sense of unease in her gut. Probably just nerves, she thought. She had a pretty big assignment in front of her, and she wanted to make her father proud.

  Dunn came down his front steps and walked toward his car. It was a calm late morning, the sky was clear, and life on State Street was calm. Just as he reached for the driver side door of his SUV, Dunn heard a voice call out to him.

  “Gannon!” said the voice. Dunn turned and he saw Walt standing a few yards out, coming closer, and smiling at him.

  “Hey there, Walt,” said Dunn. “How’s it going this morning?”

  “Oh, not bad,” said Walt. “Did you see the news?”

  “What news?”

  “In the paper this morning,” said Walt. “On the internet.”

  “I didn’t,” Dunn replied, feeling a bit impatient from Walt’s explanation. “What’s the news?”

  “They announced who the victim was,” Walt said. “In the shooting you witnessed.”

  “Really?” said Dunn, suddenly intrigued. “Who was he?”

  “He was a lawyer,” said Walt. “A lawyer for some of the wineries. I think they said he worked in real estate.”

  “Huh,” mused Dunn. He leaned back against his car. “That’s interesting.”

  “They didn’t have much more information,” said Walt. �
��They just said he was a family man and had been pretty successful. A shame, really.”

  “Indeed,” said Dunn. “Did they say anything about the shooter? Is he caught yet?”

  “No sir,” said Walt. “Still at large, they said. No leads. To think, this happens in broad daylight and they have no idea. With eyewitnesses, no less!” Walt motioned toward Dunn when he said this.

  “We were far off enough that the guy was hard to see,” said Dunn. “I told the police what I could remember. Had those cameras been working at the marina, we’d be telling a different story.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Walt, shaking his head. “Too bad.”

  “I can’t help but think this shooter and whoever broke into my house are the same person,” said Dunn. “Walt, I think I might be getting targeted because I was a witness.”

  “Intimidation,” said Walt. “You think that’s what they’re trying to do?”

  “I think so,” admitted Dunn.

  “Maybe you and I should both install some cameras on our houses,” Walt proposed. “They’re so cheap now, and you can watch them from anywhere on your phone. You seen these things?”

  “Yes,” Dunn said, trying to not make it come out in a beleaguered tone. Dunn’s background in tech was often lost on Walt.

  “Maybe we should pick some up,” Walt continued. “I don’t want any trouble in our little community here.”

  “I think that’s a good idea, Walt,” said Dunn. “Listen, though. I’ve got to split. I’m supposed to meet Brooke for lunch.”

  “Ah, Brooke,” said Walt with wide eyes. “Pretty lady. Are you two hitting it off?”

  “I don’t know,” said Dunn. “I’m hoping so, but I guess we’ll see.”

  “Well, you get moving,” said Walt, waving Dunn off. “I don’t want to keep you from your lunch date.”

  “Thanks, Walt,” said Dunn. He opened his car door. “We’ll talk about those cameras later, yeah?”

  “Sure, sure,” said Walt. “You have a good one, Gannon.”

  After stopping at an Italian sandwich shop down on Front Street, Dunn drove over toward the hospital. The large medical center was east of downtown, nestled into the residential streets, just south of the Slabtown neighborhood. It was a big complex surrounded by trees. After finding a parking spot in the visitor lot, Dunn carried the brown paper bag over to an area of picnic tables. He spotted Brooke sitting on one all alone, dressed in her scrubs, drinking from a bottle of water. She noticed him coming. They both smiled.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” teased Brooke.

  “Oh yeah?” said Dunn, sitting down opposite her and setting the bag down on the table. “What am I, five minutes late?”

  “I told you I don’t have a long lunch,” Brooke said, reaching for the bag. She pulled out both sandwiches. “Which is which?”

  “Both are turkey clubs,” said Dunn.

  “Copycat,” said Brooke, grinning. She kept one of the sandwiches and handed the other over to Dunn. They both began to unwrap their meals.

  “Hey, it sounded good,” said Dunn. “Thought I’d try it.”

  “I love these sandwiches,” said Brooke happily. She took a bite.

  “I am sorry I’m a bit late, though,” said Dunn. “I ran into Walt and he told me they announced who the victim was in the shooting.”

  “Mmm?” Brooke intoned like a question, her mouth full.

  “Yeah, some winery guy,” said Dunn. “A lawyer.”

  “Juicy,” said Brooke.

  “The sandwich?”

  “The murder,” she said, her grin resurfacing at Dunn’s joke. Brooke’s blue eyes flashed at him, and for the first time Dunn really noticed how deep in color they were. “But the sandwich is good, too. Thank you.”

  “Not to pry or anything,” said Dunn. “You told me before that your ex worked in the winery business. What does he do?”

  “Distribution,” said Brooke, setting her sandwich down on the paper wrapper and wiping her hands with a napkin. “He works with wineries to distribute to the big supermarket stores all around the state.”

  “Care to share his name?” Dunn asked with trepidation.

  “You think he did it, Gannon?” Brooke said, flashing a sly smile. “You think he’s the murderer?”

  “No, I didn’t say that,” said Dunn. “I’m just noticing a lot of connections and I’m trying to put the pieces together.”

  “Jake’s an asshole,” said Brooke. “But I don’t think he’s a murderer.”

  “Jake,” repeated Dunn. “What’s his last name?”

  “Green!” said Brooke with a laugh.

  “Oh, you didn’t change your name back,” said Dunn as it dawned on him.

  “Changing your name is a huge pain in the ass,” said Brooke. “And with a kid, if you don’t have the same last name, it can be a mess. Did your ex change her name back after you divorced?”

  “My wife never changed her name in the first place,” Dunn replied.

  “She must have known something,” Brooke said, lifting an eyebrow.

  “You’re funny,” said Dunn. “You should take that act on the road.”

  “Oh, stop,” said Brooke, reaching out and touching his hand. Dunn flipped his hand over and quickly grabbed her hand and gave a yank. Brooke laughed and playfully fought him off. After a moment of back and forth, Dunn released her hand and grinned.

  “I’m telling you,” Dunn continued. “It seems everybody I meet has connections to the wine industry.”

  “There are forty or fifty wineries up here, Gannon,” said Brooke. “And it’s not a very big town.”

  “I’m just trying to add it all up in my head,” he said. “It’s strange. Remember that young woman I told you about? My sailing instructor, she was there with me when we saw the shooting?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” Brooke replied.

  “Turns out, she’s connected to the wine industry, too,” said Dunn. “The dead lawyer, your ex, Missy—”

  “Missy?”

  “That’s the woman,” said Dunn. “Missy Marlowe. We’ve sort of been palling around a bit.” When Dunn said this, Brooke’s expression changed, like she was feeling slightly jealous.

  “Palling around, huh?” Brooke said.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” said Dunn, waving his hands outward. “She’s just a friend. We shared a messed up experience together. And she seems like a good person. She’s a bit young for me, anyhow.” Brooke narrowed her eyes.

  “Marlowe,” said Brooke, moving on but her expression still communicating that she was irked. “There you go. Her family owns Emperor Vineyards.”

  “Right,” said Dunn. “That’s exactly right.”

  “One of the big ones around here,” Brooke went on. “Jake has definitely worked with them before.”

  “It all makes me wonder if the shooter’s in the business, too,” posited Dunn. “That’s what I need to find out.”

  “Gannon,” said Brooke with incredulousness in her voice. “Leave the police work to the police. I’m sure they’re figuring this all out. It’s not your place. I know it’s stressful to witness what you did, but you’re not responsible for this.”

  “They broke into my house, Brooke,” said Dunn. “You saw. They’re involving me in this.”

  “You should go to the police and tell them you’re worried about these people coming after you,” said Brooke. “I’m sure they’ll keep a lookout and keep you safe.”

  Dunn paused. He looked down to his sandwich, not a single bite taken from it. Crossing his arms, he remained silent. There was just too much on his mind to eat.

  “Don’t be mad at me,” said Brooke after another moment. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

  “I’m not mad,” said Dunn. “Thank you.”

  “Listen,” said Brooke, a warm smile growing on her lips. Reaching out, she took Dunn’s hand and held it tenderly. “Jake has Logan this weekend. Why don’t I come over on Saturday, we’ll
make dinner, watch a movie, drink some wine, and relax. Just the two of us. We’ll lock all the doors and hide under the blankets.” Dunn smiled and let out a chuckle.

  “Just hunker down,” said Dunn. “We won’t make ourselves a target by going out.”

  “That’s right,” said Brooke. “We’ll hide away from the world. They won’t be able to find us.”

  “They know where I live, Brooke,” said Dunn, a hint of tease in his voice.

  “I said we’d lock the doors,” Brooke retorted.

  “The doors were locked last time.”

  “Do you want me to come over or not?”

  “I do.”

  “Good,” Brooke said with a simple smile. “Saturday it is.”

  As Dunn looked across the picnic table at Brooke, still hand in hand, he offered a soft smile and the worries he had been feeling—worries from a mess that weren’t even of his own making—started to dissolve. She was a pretty lady, and her intentions were obvious. Maybe he should just drop it all, leave it up to the police, let it go. He was, after all, in Traverse City to relax.

  And Brooke definitely seemed like the kind of woman who could help him with that.

  Chapter Four

  Dunn stood firm, legs apart and bent slightly at the knees. He had safety glasses on and hearing protection. Focused on the target down his line, Dunn gripped to the black pistol in his hand, holding it as he’d been shown, and then he squeezed the trigger to pop off a round. Then another, and another. He loved the feeling of firing this gun. His experience with shooting was minimal—he’d shot some rifles before, and had shot a pistol once at a range for a friend’s bachelor party—but this time it was a focused lesson. And once again, Missy was a good teacher.

  Once he emptied the magazine, Dunn smiled to himself and he looked down at the target. He squinted to see his progress. Missy stepped up closer to him, reached into his partition, and hit the button to bring the paper target back to where they stood.

  “Not bad,” said Missy. Dunn turned to her and removed his ear protection. Throughout the range, the sporadic pops of other people shooting echoed around them.

  “Yeah?” Dunn replied, returning his eyes to the target as it approached them.