Cold Pulp Trio
E. R. White, Jr.
Copyright © 2011 by E. R. White, Jr.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in these short stories are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents are purely coincidental
Own It
Miscegenation and Other Acts of Love
Caveman
Own It
I leapt up from my desk and stumbled to my office bathroom. I spun the sink faucet on and grabbed for cold water to throw on my face. I was hyperventilating, dizzy. I held on to the sink for a few moments then threw water again on my face, trying not to throw up. I looked up into the mirror, cursed God, myself and then all the world in a few heartbeats. This was mine now, and I had to fix it…
******
They had shown up, unannounced, at my Charlotte office mid-morning. Husband and wife, both dressed in their Sunday best. Malcolm and Sandra Kincaid. Ages 47 and 45 respectively. To describe them is like trying to describe mediocrity. A waste of time. It was late February, 1985.
Malcolm did all the talking. Sandra sat there like a wounded mouse, head down with only the occasional glance at me sitting behind my desk.
“Mr. Dafoe, you were referred to us by our lawyer, Sanford Milton. We understand you have done business with him in the past.”
I nodded my head and said, “That's correct. Sandy and I have a professional relationship. Now what a can I do for you?”
Kincaid took a deep breath, glanced at his wife and then looked at me straight in the eye. “It's about our eldest, Myra. We haven't heard from her in almost three years. We want to contact her and talk. Mr. Milton told us that you have had experience tracking down people.”
I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I understand your pain of not hearing from your girl, but why now? Do you suspect foul play, was there a falling out or what?”
I saw Mrs. Kincaid take a deep breath and slowly exhale. Her husband didn't hesitate with an answer.
“We’re a God-fearing family. We have tried our best to raise a family with those values. When it came time for Myra to go to college four years ago, we went out of our way to send her to a college that shares our values, Cecil Smith College. She was going to major in music. She's a wonderful pianist. We thought all was well but after her freshman year, she didn't come home. After a frantic week, we get a letter from her in the mail. It was short. She said she wanted to be free, was striking out on her own and never wanted to hear from us again. Needless to say we were devastated. We tried to track her down on our own—but no luck.”
“Okay, I can see why you were upset, but after three years—well, let me be blunt, why come to me now? A private investigator would have been a lot more useful and much more likely to succeed if you had called on one from the start. I don't get it.”
The couple glanced at each other. While his wife resumed her examination of my floor, Kincaid spoke.
“We’ve accepted the fact that we lost Myra, but we will not lose any of our other three girls. The oldest, Tammy, is in her senior year in high school and the twins, Mary and Sarah are in the sixth grade.”
He paused, glanced at his wife then looked back at me. “Last week Myra showed up in Shelby, right after school was over for the day. She was waiting by Tammy's car. Myra tried to convince Tammy to run away once she was off to college. Luckily, Tammy decided to be honest and told us about it.”
I just nodded my head.
“We want to find Myra and tell her to stay away from us. She's caused us enough grief, and I will not let her destroy what's left of our family. I want to know where she lives, what she does, and I want it conveyed to her, in no uncertain terms, we want no part of her, now or in the future. I would prefer to do it in person, but if she doesn't meet us, then we want you to deliver the message. She was the one who wanted nothing to do with us, so now we expect her to keep her word. It's that simple.”
“Did Myra give—Tammy, that's right? Did Myra give Tammy a phone number to call or address to write to?”
Kincaid, all business, said, “She told Tammy to write a letter and send it to the Post Office on Sunset Hills Road in Reston, Virginia. She is to send it General Delivery to ‘Myra Kincaid.’ Myra said she would start checking for the letter once a month after Tammy is in college. Myra would come and get her. Needless to say Tammy won't be going to college till this is settled.”
I thought for a moment, as if to be giving actual serious consideration to the issue, then got to my main interest in the matter.
“If I say yes to this, I want complete cooperation. Be advised I don't work cheap. I'll need money up front and payment in full upon completion. I invoice and justify every expense, so rest assured you'll get your monies worth.”
“I can afford you Mr. Dafoe. I own the largest lumber and concrete business in Shelby, and business is good. Just tell me how much and what else you need to get this situation cleared up.”
“Fair enough.”
I buzzed for my secretary, Maisy, and asked she ready our standard contract for the Kincaid's. Afterwards, I asked for the Kincaids to send to me the latest pictures they had of Myra and write down everything they knew about their daughters abbreviated stay at Cecil Smith College. It came in the mail three days later.
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