The Sign Painter

by Davis Bunn

  “I want to go home!”

  “So do I, darling. Raise your other arm.”

  “No, Mommy! Let me go to bed!”

  “Darling, we have to do this.”

  “But why, Mommy? Is it the big bad truck?”

  “No. Well, sort of.”

  “You said you’d protect me.”

  Amy was not going to lose it. She was not going to snap at her child. But she did give up on trying to dress her. Amy swept Kimmie up in her arms and draped the blouse over her bare shoulders. “That’s what I’m doing, honey. As hard as I possibly can.”

  Bob chose that moment to appear in the doorway. “We’re ready.”

  “So are we.”

  “No, Mommy! I don’t want to!”

  “I know, Kimmie.” Amy followed Bob at something just under a trot as Paul and Granville stood by the rear doors, both men in fully amped mode. She spared a moment’s astonishment over how they could live for this, day after day. They shone with a professional readiness to run toward whatever danger this particular night held.

  Kimmie hated it all. She did not whimper and she did not quite wail but settled on a keening note that somehow combined the two. Amy rushed behind Bob across the side lawn, through the hedge, and up to the biggest home she had ever seen. The bouncing rhythm punctuated Kimmie’s plaintive cry.

  The man standing in the doorway matched the house. He was huge. Everything about him was oversize, including the smile. At two in the morning. “Well, hey there, baby doll. What’s the word?” he said to Kimmie.

  Kimmie’s complaint cut off cleanly. She peered at the man and his grin through the veil of her hair. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “Yeah, baby girl, I get that a lot.” He pushed the door open wider. “But everybody’s got to be somewhere, right?”

  Amy said, “I’m Amy, and I’m so sorry.”

  “Kareem. And don’t worry about it. Hey, Bob.”

  “Thanks so much, Kareem.”

  “No sweat, man. The cops got you covered?”

  Paul said, “We do.”

  They remained in the open doorway until they saw Paul and Granville disappear inside Bob’s home. Kareem asked, “They gonna play bait for the bad guys?”

  “Something like that.”

  Kimmie said, “Let me down, Mommy.”

  Amy set down her child and held her hand as she gawked at the enormous front hall, the three-tiered balcony running around the central living area, and the pool cage. Which was illuminated by arc lights and held an Olympic-size pool, a basketball court, and a flash of brilliant golden wings. Kimmie demanded, “What is that?”

  “You wanna come meet my buddies? You got to play nice, you come out here. These are shy folks, mostly.”

  “But what kind of birds are they?”

  “I got just about everything.” He offered Kimmie a finger. “Cockatoos, parrots, songbirds from three continents.”

  She hesitated only a second. Amy held her daughter’s forgotten blouse as she and Bob followed across the living room area and out to the aviary. The birds sang a gentle hello while Kimmie peered through the mesh. She listened as the giant named one bird after another. Finally, she asked, “Why are you so tall?”

  “Because my momma told me I had to eat just two things—peanut butter and everything she put on my plate.”

  Kimmie still held the big man’s finger. “I like peanut butter.”

  “Then you come to the right place, baby girl. You want some now?”

  “I’m sleepy.”

  “I got rooms all fixed up for everybody, baby girl. Right this way.”

  But they were only partway across the living room when the night was punctuated by gunfire. Kareem surprised them all by pulling a pistol from his baggy shorts. “Don’t y’all worry none. I done heard that drill before. Bob, you know how to use one of these?”

  “I do.”

  “Take this one. Probably won’t need it. We’ll stay hunkered down. Trust the pros to do their job. The piece is for just in case.”

  Kimmie whimpered, “Scared, Mommy.”

  Kareem knelt and patted Kimmie’s cheek. “Nobody’s getting inside tonight, baby girl. You got the law and God on your side, you hear what I’m saying?”

  Special Agent Ken Grant joined Granville and Paul in the car with Consuela. They drove down the street and parked out of sight of the house. Consuela directed the cops on sentry to do the same. The chief parked behind them and sat talking on her phone. They traded off doing patrols on foot. Granville and Paul and Consuela helped out. The chief stayed for another hour, then left without a word or a wave.

  On the phone, Ken Grant briefed Tom Beeks between patrols, then cut the connection while there was still the sound of a complaining voice at the other end. Paul liked Ken a good deal at that moment. Enough to say, “You’re doing the right thing, being allies with the local force on this.”

  Ken took his time responding. “Come tomorrow morning, Washington might think otherwise.”

  Granville tapped his wrist. “Actually, it’s today.”

  Ken just sighed. “I liked it here. So did my family.”

  Consuela said, “We could always use another pro on the force.”

  Ken looked at her. Might have smiled. At least his lips twitched. He was working on a response when Consuela’s phone rang. Paul watched her come to full alert, going from sentry to warrior vixen, all in the space of two breaths. She did not bother to cup the phone as she reported, “We’ve got incoming.”

  “Where?”

  “Our guys out front just spotted the two vehicles coming round for a second inspection of the front gates.” Consuela listened, then added, “Both Escalades. One is missing the rear bumper.”

  Paul had his phone out. “The front gate is up, right?”

  “And the security guard is on patrol at the development’s far end,” Consuela confirmed.

  “Granville, let’s move.” Paul phoned Amy as he crossed the lawn. Bob opened the door for them. Paul watched Amy struggle to dress the whiny child and then he ushered them across the lawn. He did not draw his weapon until he was moving back into position.

  Granville met him by the rear doors. “They’ve been joined by four more vehicles.”

  “Let me guess,” Paul said. “Three new Vettes and a top-end Camaro.”

  “That’s an affirm.” Granville pulled a straight-backed chair up to the darkened front window. “Consuela asks, who gives us the green light?”

  “Ask her how she feels about letting Ken Grant have the honor.”

  Granville passed on the query and grinned at the response. “The lady gives you a very spicy yes.”

  Paul stood by the window on the front door’s opposite side. He disliked being inside the house. He wanted to be out where he could take the night’s pulse. But he stayed where he was for the moment. Running through things. Using the last quiet moments as well as he possibly could.

  Granville kept the phone to his left ear. His right hand was in his lap, holding a massive .38 Special. The gun glinted in the light through the window in front of him. He said, “The chief’s been alerted and is on her way back. Two choppers have just left Sanford. Inbound in ten. Less. Ken Grant has pulled in his team, but they’re coming from Orlando, so they’ll probably miss the party. Shame.”

  Paul decided he had heard enough. “Tell the others I’ll be stationed in the shrubs between us and the house next door. Ask them not to shoot me.”

  “Always better to take a hit from the bad guys,” Granville agreed.

  Paul had just settled into the shrubbery when the night shifted around him. The cicadas cut off their racket; even the frogs down by the lake went still. Then he heard it, the soft rumble of supercharged engines, growing until he could feel the sound in his chest. They angled to a halt in front of the house
, one after the other, the two Escalades in the center. The engines were suddenly quiet. The occupants sat waiting.

  Two men emerged from the Camaro and another pair from one of the Vettes. They cradled snub-nosed guns with both hands. Paul assumed the guns were Mossbergs, the automatic weapon of choice among lowlifes. The Mossberg was hard to aim, but that hardly mattered, since it could spray the twenty-eight bullets in its oversize clip so fast that they sounded like just one noise, a giant ripping of the fabric of life. The four men spread out, angled so they covered all the compass headings except what stood directly in front of the vehicles. The house was silent.

  Then the night woke up.

  It was as sweet a takedown as Paul had ever seen. The choppers arrived in a rush of sound and light, followed by six police cars careening through the front gates and Consuela and the sentry cops flashing the lights on their cars from the other way. All exits blocked, all resistance futile. The cars and their occupants were trapped in the amber of overpowering opposition. The bullhorn only punctuated what had already gone down.

  “This is the police and the DEA! Come out with your hands empty! You are under arrest!”

  CHAPTER 34

  The news that Bob Denton was stepping out with a woman he had hired to paint designs on his dealership’s windows stayed secret for another seventy-two hours. But that was enough for their date to be overshadowed by the fireworks of a federal investigation. Denton Chevrolet became home to a team of forensic accountants and DEA agents, all of whom were intent upon ferreting out anyone with known associations to Bob Denton, Jr. Two members of Bob’s sales staff were already in federal custody, as was Bob’s son. Coming face-to-face with the very real prospect of a lengthy jail stint had erased BeeJay’s smirk.

  Bob’s son was singing up a storm, according to Granville and Paul. The motives and actions were as Amy had suspected. A small fishing port on Florida’s Atlantic coast had been pinpointed as an ideal conduit for cocaine smuggling and offered the Ohio gang their very own supply line. They had intended to cut out the Miami mobs and pocket all the profits themselves, using new cars purchased from Brentonville dealerships they would soon own. Bob Jr. was to have been their front man.

  Amy remained extremely busy overseeing the forensic accountants poring over the dealership’s books. Not to mention those of the Subaru and Cadillac dealerships that Bob co-owned.

  Rachel, the saleswoman with the autistic son, caught up with Amy on the fourth morning after the arrests. She followed Amy into the staff kitchen and asked, “You going out with Bob again tonight?”

  “There are no secrets in this place, are there?”

  “Not anymore. The DEA is seeing to that.” The woman had a lovely smile, creased by her own hard times and spiced by goodwill. “Way to go, girl.”

  “I didn’t come here looking for love, Rachel.”

  “You know what? I actually believe you. Which makes it sweeter still.”

  “Then the answer is yes, we’re taking Kimmie to the movies.”

  “Kimmie’s your little girl?”

  “She is. And she loves Pixar. She wants one of those lamps for her desk, the one that stomps on the letter and then looks around. Kimmie asked Bob if he could get her one for Christmas.”

  “So the two are bonding. That’s nice.” Rachel slid the door shut. “We need to get our stories straight. In case anyone asks, you were slipped in here as part of the undercover team.”

  Amy was shocked. “That is a lie from start to finish, and you know it.”

  “I know it now.” If anything, her smile broadened. “Too late, though. I already let it slip.”

  “To whom?”

  “Oh, everybody. They all know you two are an item. I wanted to stop the snide little comments about gold-digging before they had a chance to sink in. Cool, huh?” Rachel patted Amy’s arm. “You’re good for the man. I knew that the instant you set off with him for the rehab center. So does everybody else around here who really cares for Bob.”

  Amy was mulling that over when Paul tracked her back to her desk and asked, “Got a minute?”

  “Not really.” She pointed to the pair of forensic accountants who were arguing over an entry in her database. “I’ve got to keep an eye on those two, make sure they don’t turn Bob’s books into party hats.”

  Paul slid into the chair on the other side of her desk. “You can come back. It’s safe.”

  “Back?”

  “To your apartment. If you want. I’ve cleared it with the police. They agree.”

  “That’s great.” Amy heard the hollow note in her voice and wondered if Paul did, too. “What about you?”

  “Lucy says I can keep the place as long as I need it.”

  “No. I mean—”

  “I know what you mean.” Paul angled his body so his softly spoken words were pointed away from the accountants. “There’s a church in Minneapolis. They need me.”

  “So go.” But the words caught in her throat, such that she had to swallow hard before she could add, “What you do is important.”

  “Okay, sure. But I’ve been thinking, well . . .”

  “You need us.”

  It was hard to say who was most surprised by her quiet declaration, Amy or Paul. He nodded slowly. “You’re right. I do. This place is more than an assignment. I’ve made friends. I’ve found . . .”

  “A place where you want to put down roots. I understand.”

  “You do, don’t you?” He breathed deep. “Granville wants to team up. And Dan Eldridge. Go with me. Do this thing. Come back. Make it a regular sort of posting.”

  Amy felt her face draw into lines that were gradually becoming familiar. As though she had to trust tomorrow just to give in to the pleasure of a smile. “I know what Lucy would say.”

  “What is that?”

  She reached over and gripped his hand. “Welcome home.”

  READING GROUP GUIDE AND AUTHOR Q&A

  THE SIGN PAINTER

  DAVIS BUNN

  Amy Dowell had always considered herself a very good mother. But when she loses her husband to illness and her home to debt, she finds herself and her young daughter, Kimberly, living on the streets. She struggles to find a job that will get them back on their feet again.

  When Amy meets Lucy Watts, the administrator of the church program that provides Amy and Kimberly with a meal, Lucy surprises Amy by setting them up in temporary housing. The same day, another church member offers Amy a job painting signs at his Chevrolet dealership. Still, Amy is afraid to let go and trust. Could this be the break she’s been praying for? Can she afford to expose herself and Kimberly to the possibility of disappointment by hoping again?

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  1. Discuss the significance of the title, The Sign Painter. What are some of the signs that appear to Amy, Lucy, Bob, and Paul?

  2. Both Amy and Lucy possess the skill of making quick assessments of other people and their intentions. Were Amy’s first impressions of others always correct? Was Lucy right about Amy?

  3. Amy has built up a fear and dislike of the police over her months on the road, but slowly comes to trust and befriend Paul Travers and Granville Burnes. How do you see Amy starting to trust again throughout the novel?

  4. What do you make of Amy taking the money from the dealership? Do you think she did the right thing?

  5. Why does Amy accept the job at Denton Chevrolet? Is this a good decision for her and Kimmie?

  6. Consider the theme of friendship and support networks throughout the novel. How are the relationships between Amy and Lucy and Granville and Paul necessary and beneficial to each of the characters?

  7. Which character do you identify with the most? Why?

  8. Paul finally opens up and admits to feeling unfulfilled and bereft of purpose in his life. How does the theme of overcoming hard times through fai
th and sharing struggles with others appear throughout the novel?

  9. How does Amy work to create a routine and a sense of home and normalcy for Kimmie? Does she succeed in teaching these things to her daughter? Consider this moment in the novel:

  When the service was over, Amy remained seated beside her little girl. It was a habit she had started soon after they hit the road. Amy wanted her daughter to hold on to all the good things that remained within reach. She could not tell such lessons to a child. She had to show them: Here was safety. Here was a place where she could feel connected to all the goodness in the world. This was a true sanctuary from life’s uneven hand. And Kimmie needed to feel it for herself.

  10. How does Amy use prayer as a tool in her life? How does it bring her closer to Lucy and Bob?

  11. Compare the two parent-child relationships in The Sign Painter: Amy and Kimmie and Bob Denton and Bob Jr. How does each relationship illustrate the challenges of being a parent?

  12. What would you do if your neighborhood were facing drug-related violence like the church community in The Sign Painter?

  13. The very last words of the novel are “Welcome home.” How were the concepts of home, belonging, and community interwoven throughout the novel?

  ENHANCE YOUR BOOK CLUB

  1. Volunteer with your book group for an organization that helps homeless women and children. Visit http://www.nationalhomeless.org/directories/index.html to find your local, state, or national housing or homeless advocacy coalition, or make a financial contribution to support their work.

  2. Check out Davis Bunn’s other novels available from Howard Books: Book of Dreams, Hidden in Dreams, The Black Madonna, and Gold of Kings. Davis is known for writing excellent female and male protagonists. After reading one of his other books, compare and contrast your favorite characters from each book.

  3. Find out more about the author by visiting www.DavisBunn.com. Discover more about Davis’s upcoming projects, and discuss with other readers in the web forums. If you submit a review of The Sign Painter, it might be shared on Davis’s blog!