“I know,” Pete said.
I didn’t know it, and I doubted even Butch knew it, but if it got us out of this standoff, let him say it all he wanted.
Butch nodded, holstered his weapon, and reached down and uncuffed Ray. “No hard feelings,” Butch said. “I’m glad my partner came along and kept me from doing something stupid.”
If I doubted Butch was insane before, I didn’t now. He was certifiable, which made him far more dangerous than if he were just mean. I’d be willing to bet that a call to Miami PD would get a story of an unstable cop who transferred out to a podunk department just ahead of a reprimand or termination or even an indictment.
“Let’s all leave friendly like,” Butch said. “Let bygones be bygones, and if you don’t want to do that, then just remember I still have my gun.”
Butch backed up to give Ray plenty of room to stand.
“Everything jake there Raymond?” Butch said.
“Far from it,” he said. “But we’re done for today.”
Butch nodded. “You calling a truce?”
Ray nodded. “A very temporary one,” he said, took a quick step forward and popped Butch’s scarred face with a hard overhand right.
It was a clean, well-delivered shot that didn’t just knock Butch down, but out.
“Keep him away from me, Pete,” Ray said. “Next time I’ll kill him.”
“I’ll try,” he said.
“Be a good idea to get him out of town,” Ray said. “Early retirement or something.”
“We’ll take your car back to town, Pete,” I said. “You can drive Butch back in his. I’ll leave it for you at the station. And thanks for your help.”
“Sure thing, Jimmy,” he said. “And I’m very sorry for what happened, Ray.”
“Thanks to you and Jimmy,” Ray said, “it was what almost happened. I won’t forget that Pete.”
Chapter 26
The Lodge at Wakulla Springs was a popular recreational spot for servicemen, so I was surprised when the man who greeted Lauren at the room door wasn’t in uniform.
I was following Lauren again.
I had a pocket full of ration coupons for food, but I had used my last one for gas. If Lauren was going to continue to lead me all over the Panhandle, I’d have to turn to bribery or the black market.
It was obvious she wasn’t going to tell me what was really going on, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t find out. All this had started with her coming to my office because she thought I was following her, and now I was. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
One of the world’s largest and deepest freshwater springs, Wakulla Springs hosts an abundance of wildlife, including alligators, turtles, and many species of birds. Its clear, cool waters, complex cave system, and surrounding forests make for recreation that’s as beautiful as it is refreshing.
Located just south of Tallahassee, the springs have been of scientific interest since 1850 when Sarah Smith saw the bones of an ancient mastodon on the bottom. Over the past ninety years, scientists have identified the remains of several other extinct Ice Age mammals. But that wasn’t why most people came to the springs. It was for swimming, boat rides, relaxation, and the observation of wildlife—mostly relaxation, to forget about the war, and the hopes of amorous activities.
Built in 1937 by railroad magnate Edward Ball, the Mediterranean Revival style Wakulla Springs Lodge has hand-wrought iron, marble, and hand-made ceramic imported tile. Its twenty-seven rooms are luxurious and spacious.
At the time, the lodge was managed by Newton Perry, a famous swim coach who brought Hollywood to the springs. Thanks to him the first Tarzan movie, featuring Olympic swimmer, Johnny Weissmuller, was filmed here a couple of years ago.
Lauren was in a room with a man who looked nearly as old as Harry. Maybe that was the problem. I was too young for her—we were the same age. I was sitting in the enormous lobby next to the massive fireplace reading the paper when I wasn’t looking out the tall arched windows at the bathers enjoying the warm sun (it was warm for October even by Florida standards) on the beach, in the water, and on the dive platform. Beyond them, the Tarpon Club, the synchronized swim team of Florida State College for Women, was training.
The paper was old, but I didn’t mind. I was using it for cover, and I had been too busy to read much of it lately anyway. At least it was full of good news for our side (the past several I had looked at were depressing—especially the one that announced that German forces were occupying Rome). In this one the allies were on a roll, and having recently captured Naples, we had now gained control of Corsica.
After nearly two hours, the man appeared on the stairs, walked through the lobby right past me, and continued into the dining room. He ordered a cup of coffee, and I violated every rule in the Shamus Manual by walking over to make a little conversation with him.
“Morning,” I said as I sat down at the table next to him.
“Hi ya, soldier,” he said. “How you been?”
He was a friendly sort, his face and eyes showing his openness. He had dark wavy hair beginning to go gray, a fleshy face, and a dark complexion.
“Been better,” I said.
He nodded toward my folded up right sleeve. “We appreciate what you boys are doing for us and the world.”
“God bless America,” I said.
“Amen,” he said.
We were silent a moment, as the waitress brought his coffee and took my order for the same.
“If you’d ever like to talk,” he said, “I’m a grand listener.”
I detected a bit of an Irish lilt in his voice I hadn’t heard before.
“Aren’t you after being kind?” I said, with a wee smile.
He gave me one of his own and said, “Tis true,” his accent growing much heavier. “I’m altogether Irish. And wouldn’t I be after missing my homeland terrible bad?”
“What brings you here?” I asked.
“Now isn’t that a long story?” he said.
“I meant to Wakulla Springs.”
“Just visiting for the day,” he said. “Live nearby in Panama City.”
“That pretty woman with you your wife?”
“Oh no,” he said. “Nothing like that.”
I raised my eyebrows and smiled at him appreciatively.
A broad smiled spread across his face and I wanted to stand up and knock it off.
“Alas, I walk this weary world alone,” he said.
“She looks familiar,” I said. “I could swear I’ve seen her somewhere before.”
He didn’t take the bait and I let it go.
When my coffee came, I told him I was going to take it outside and said my goodbyes. It was just in time, too. As I reached the back door, I could hear Lauren’s heels clicking on the marble floor, crossing the lobby toward him.
From one of the large arched windows, I watched as she hugged him with more genuine affection than she had ever shown me, and turned to leave.
I ran around the outside of the lodge and was in my car when she walked out the front door, but to my surprise, she didn’t leave. She tossed a few things in her car and walked around the side of the lodge and down to the water’s edge in the back, where she captured the attention of a few of the young guys lying on the beach nearby.
I followed, giving her plenty of room. There wasn’t much to hide behind except an occasional tree.
Having left her house this morning too early to finish fixing her hair, Lauren had on a do-rag covering her curls, which had surprised me. She usually took better care before meeting lovers. Was she just that anxious or was she breaking apart?
When she reached the edge of the spring, she knelt down, took off her do-rag, cupped water in her hand, and sprinkled it on her head. She was wearing a dress. It wasn’t that hot. She looked insane. A few of the guys who had been eyeing her lasciviously were now laughing at her.
“You’re getting your dress wet, lady,” one of the guys said. “Why don’t you take it off?”
&nb
sp; She stood and began to unbutton her dress. Before she could get very far or I could get to her, her current lover came running through one of the back doors and down to her.
“You okay, dear?” he asked.
She didn’t say anything, just looked up at him with a faraway stare.
“Come on,” he said. “Let me drive you home. I’ll come back and get my car later.”
Following Lauren and the older Irish man back to her car, I wondered if maybe the strain of the campaign or her double life was getting to her. It would explain why she was acting so strangely. Was that really what Dr. Rainer was treating her for?
I felt a heaviness, a weight bearing down on me from above, and a pressure in my chest. It was horrible to see her this way. I tried to recall anything unusual she did when we were together—any erratic or irrational behavior that might point to mental illness, but couldn’t come up with anything.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she was fine. She could have just been upset by something that happened with Old Irish. Did she feel rejected? Defiled? Was she attempting to wash her sin away with the clear cool waters of the spring?
Once the old guy had her tucked into the passenger side of her car and was walking around the back to the driver’s side, I appeared next to him.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
“She will be,” he said.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked. “She seems—”
“It’s exhaustion,” he said. “Stress. She just needs rest.”
“Anything I can do?” I asked.
“You could say a prayer for her,” he said.
“Anything else?” I asked. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”
Chapter 27
In startling contrast to the woman who I witnessed unraveling at Wakulla Springs, the Lauren Lewis attending the political debate between her husband and Frank Howell was enchanting and erudite. When she walked into the room with her short, straight gray skirt and its matching short jacket, everyone turned—many never quite able to turn away from her for the rest of the evening.
We were in the cafeteria of Bay High School. The crowd was good, and included all the local dignitaries and luminaries, the top officials from Tyndall Field, the naval section base, and Wainwright Shipyard, the governor, a senator, a congressman, Pete and Butch, Ann Everett, and Payton Rainer. Rainer sat in the center of the front row. July was near the middle of the room, and Clip was with a small group of Negroes in the back. They were both here to help me find out who was following Lauren.
Ray and I were standing on one side of the stage, Cliff Walton on the other. Harry and the rotund man he was running against were standing near the front center of the platform, each trying to upstage the other.
“Any closer to finding out what’s going on?” Ray whispered.
I shook my head.
Harry and Howell were taking turns talking about how important the working man (and now woman) was to them, the local economy, and the war effort.
“You ever get to talk to Rainer again?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I was waiting to see if there was any heat from us liberating Lauren, then the few times I stopped by, he wasn’t there—they let me look. I figured he had left the country.”
“Maybe we can have a chat with him after this is over,” he said.
“You really think this thing’s ever going to end?” I said. “You’re more of an optimist than I thought.”
He smiled. “You think Butch’ll try to shoot me tonight?”
“He might right here in front of everyone,” I said. “He ain’t right. Cops any closer to finding out who killed Freddy, Margie, or Cab?”
“We’re about to find out,” he said, nodding toward the crowd.
I looked in the direction of his nod to see Pete making his way from his seat over toward us.
“Jimmy,” he whispered, as he came up behind us. “Ray.”
“Pete,” I said.
Ray didn’t speak.
“What’s new?” Pete said.
“Not much,” I said.
“Butch kidnapped or killed anyone lately?” Ray asked.
“Not today.”
We were all quiet a moment. Pete was nervous and it showed. He knew as well as I did that it was just a matter of time until Butch did something stupid, and if he did it to Ray he was going to get killed.
“Any headway on who killed the kid, Margie, or Cab?” Pete said.
“You’re asking me?”
“Yeah.”
“No,” I said. “You?”
“Not much,” he said. “But I gotta do something with all these bodies. My captain’s gettin’ sore as hell.”
I nodded.
Harry stood still as he spoke to the increasingly restless audience, but Howell moved about the stage on his toes in a way that reminded me of a cartoon I’d seen of a dancing hippopotamus in a tutu.
“Whoever did it is good,” he said. “We got none of the normal eyewitnesses and not a single clue—except your card.”
Ray raised his eyebrows as he looked over at me. I hadn’t told him about my business card being found inside Margie.
“A pro?” I asked.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Do you know where Butch was during the time of the murders?” Ray asked.
“It’s not Butch,” Pete said, but he didn’t sound very confident.
We were quiet a moment, which forced us to hear Howell tell how he had far more integrity and had worked harder his whole life than the soft, money-loving banker, Lewis.
“You guys working for Howell or Lewis?” Pete asked.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding.
“Come on, Jimmy,” he said. “Just ’cause you don’t work for the good guys anymore don’t meant you have to work against us.”
“I just don’t want to do anything to help your partner frame me,” I said. “Or shoot Ray.”
“You mean die tryin’ to shoot Ray,” Ray said.
“Okay,” Pete said. “Have it your way. Just answer one question for me. I know you’re working for Lewis and that eager young wife of his. I just want to know if you were when all those people were killed.”
He had been my partner. I had been willing to die for him the way I now was for Ray. And I wanted to turn around and use all the strength I had to beat his face in until it was unrecognizable. Somehow I found the restraint I needed to refrain, and he eased back over and took his seat beside his new partner, who was glaring in our direction.
“You think we acted like that when we were still part of the good guys?” Ray asked.
“I didn’t,” I said. “I’m sure you were far worse.”
He smiled.
Eventually, the debate ended. There wasn’t a clear winner among the candidates, but everyone in the audience was a loser. Frank Howell made his way down our side of the platform to greet his supporters, but Harry lingered on stage. He was staring at Rainer who was obviously trying to communicate something with his expression. His head was lowered, his eyebrows arched, and he looked from Lewis to Lauren and pointed to his watch.
I started to move toward Rainer, but stopped when Harry began to speak.
“Folks,” Harry yelled over the noisy crowd. “Folks. Could I have your attention for a moment. I’m sorry, but there’s something I need to say.”
The crowd quieted down. Rainer was nodding at Harry. Lauren, who was shaking her head, looked over at me, her expression one of fear and helplessness. Howell, who was near me, looked over and arched his eyebrows.
Standing so close to him, I saw again how deep and abundant the acne scars on his face were and thought that he was benefitted by being on stage—too far away for potential voters to see just how unattractive a man he really was.
“I was going to wait to do this, but I feel I must say something tonight,” he said. “I’m seriously considering dropping out of the race for mayor of this great city. If I do, it will be for purely personal reasons. I’d like nothing more
than to get the opportunity to serve all of you fine folks, but sometimes … well, we don’t always get what we want. I’ll make my final decision in a couple of days and make an announcement then. For now, please keep me and my family in your prayers.”
“Well,” Howell said, his smile expanding his fat face even farther. “My, my.” Winking at me, he added, “Wonder what kind of personal issues he has.”
He then pranced away—well, as much as a slightly effeminate, elephantine middle-aged man can.
I looked for Rainer again, but he was gone.
“Did you know anything about this?” I asked Ray.
He shook his head.
“Wonder what’s going on?” I asked.
“Let’s see if we can’t act like detectives and find out.”
Chapter 28
“Take him around back and wait there,” Walt said. “I’ll get the car and pull around.”
Ray and I began to escort Harry away from the crowd, which was still demanding an explanation from him.
“And see if you can find Mrs. Lewis,” he added.
“I’ll look for her,” Ray said. “You take him.”
Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the crowd, and I grabbed Harry’s right arm and ushered him toward the rear of the building.
We walked down a series of short, mostly dark hallways and wound up in a small storage room with a back door exit.
“We’ll wait in here until Walt comes around with the car,” I said.
He didn’t say anything, only continued to look lost, as if he were the one who was in shock instead of the one who had delivered it.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I have all the money I’ll ever need,” he said, his voice small. He still had the unfocused stare of the desperate. “I just wanted to do something meaningful with my life. Help the people of the city that’s been so good to me and my family. All I ever wanted to do was serve the public.”
“Why are you considering pulling out of the race?” I asked.
He didn’t look at me, didn’t acknowledge my presence in any way.
“I would’ve made a great mayor,” he said. “Lot of money and people flowing into our little town right now. Lot of corruption. We need someone who can’t be bought, who’ll stand up to those who would try to destroy our way of life. I could have done that. I—”
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