1929 Book 4 - Drifter

by ML Gardner

  My ears were hot as I paced two steps in each direction and I wanted to tear the room apart. When I realized all the anger was causing me to become aroused, I had second thoughts again about going home.

  I growled, pressing my forehead on the wall and pounding it with my fist. I hated Gina for betraying me and yet, all I wanted to do was throw her on the bed and put my hand over her mouth. It made it worse knowing she’d like that. I hated myself for being so damaged.

  I unlocked the door and was climbing back up on my bunk when she returned. All traces of her temper were gone. As she tossed her flask on the bed, I rolled away to keep from looking at her and to keep her from seeing me in my state of angry excitement.

  “Did you get it refilled?” I asked.

  “Yes, would you like a nip?”

  “Sure,” I said, sitting with one knee pulled up. I took it and drank. It was cheap, nasty whiskey and my throat burned. I handed it back and returned to my side.

  “Are you tired?”

  “Yes,” I lied. I was racing on adrenaline and hoping the drink would settle me down, even just a bit.

  “We could go up top for a walk,” she suggested.

  “No thanks.”

  “Well, I’ve got someone who wants to buy.” She opened her bag and pulled out a few bottles. “Might as well make a little money before we get to Paris. Who knows, maybe we can stay a night in one of those fancy hotels. When I get back, I’ll try to talk you into taking that walk.”

  After she left I hopped down and locked the door again. I opened her bag and mine. I had a mostly empty bottle and drank the rest.

  Then I poured half the cheap whiskey from her flask into it. I capped it and dropped it in her bag. I replaced the whiskey with tonic and gave it a gentle swirl. Then I placed it exactly where she left it at the foot of her bed, unlocked the door and crawled up on the top bunk.

  When she came back she tried to talk me into a moonlit walk again.

  “We should get some sleep,” I said, trying to get comfortable.

  “We never sleep at night,” she said and poked my leg to get my attention.

  “I know. But I’d rather we arrive in France tomorrow morning fresh. So we can decide what to do next.”

  “We?” she asked.

  I rolled over enough to look at her. I tried to smile. “Yeah, we.”

  She smiled, seemingly happy to hear this. “Well, I suppose I could take a nap with the help of some drink.”

  I heard her unscrew the cap of her flask and opened my eyes.

  She growled. “This is the nastiest stuff ever! I can’t believe I traded a fella morphine for this.”

  “Nastier it is, the more it’ll help you sleep,” I said, staring at the wall.

  “What should we do first, John?”

  “Why don’t we find that nice hotel you were talking about?”

  “We could do that.” She reached onto the top bunk and put a hand on my back, stroking lightly. “Maybe we could spend some time together. A day or two, just you and me, like old times. What do you say?”

  “I’d say…you better drink up and get some sleep so you have enough energy to keep up with me, Gina.”

  She giggled and I heard the liquid in the flask slosh.

  “She fell asleep shortly after that. I was worried she would wake up as we were pulling in, but she hadn’t taken the stuff in so long it had a powerful effect.”

  “So, you got off the ship alone?”

  Aryl turned, taking his eyes off the vast expanse of ocean and the dim light of the sun warming the horizon.

  “I did. I stopped at the door and looked back at her for a moment. I took the papers from her bag and put them in mine. I realized when she told me we’d live like royals that she was doing exactly what Mickey had been doing. But I wasn’t a scared and weak person any longer.

  “I gave the papers to the police in Paris and when they asked me who John was, I told them I didn’t know. I told them I knew where Gina was, however. Exactly where they could find her. Part of me felt bad for doing it, but I had no choice. It was me or her. And since I had remembered Claire, the baby and my friends, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me.”

  “And yet you still sent that telegram to New York and not home. Why?”

  “Because I wanted to get back to America and spend a few days getting my head straight. Maybe…get a hotel and keep trying to taper off this stuff. Get my schedule flipped back around. Get used to being around normal people again. I just felt like I needed to prepare.”

  “I think I can understand that. Do you feel like my coming for you interfered with those preparations?”

  Aryl thought for a moment. “No. It’s been nice to tell someone everything without fear of rejection or disgust, you know?”

  Sloan pulled his eyes from Aryl’s and gazed at the rising sun.

  “Believe me, I do.”

  ***

  Sloan spent as little time in Boston as possible, not wanting to increase Aryl’s anxiety about going home. He stopped to send a telegram to Sheriff Vincent and darted into a jewelry store to purchase something for his wife. Then they jumped on the train just as it had started to pull out, bound for Rockport.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rockport

  Jonathan Garrett didn’t mind being dispatched to the train station, though he felt as if he were always the one fetching people. What he didn’t look forward to was Aunt Mildred and her strange ways. Conversation on the way home was sure to be interesting as the woman was only half sane in her advanced age. She was a free thinker and with the excuse of antiquity, everyone was sure she secretly enjoyed every one of her antics.

  He pulled up to the dirt parking lot of the train station, his car sputtering to a violent stop. He frowned, knowing that he’d have to stick his head under the hood while everyone else slept in the next day. His to-do list lengthened and tomorrow being Sunday, his only day to rest, he groaned, frustrated. Just one day of the week he’d like get up after the sun.

  He stepped out and stretched, grateful for the warm sunny weather. What he wasn’t grateful for was Claire’s Aunt Mildred, missing her train twice from New York and all the confusing telegrams that ensued. Claire’s wedding to Gordon, the reason for her visit, had been delayed. Jonathan’s stomach grumbled. He hadn’t had dinner yet, with everyone busy with wedding preparations. The sunset wedding with light refreshments afterward couldn’t happen soon enough.

  He sniffed the air, smelling roasted goodness coming from a small diner down the way and it increased his misery.

  “Jon. What are you doing here?” Sheriff Vincent sidled up in uniform.

  “I’m picking up Claire’s Aunt Mildred. She missed her train in New York. Twice.” Jonathan made a face, straining for patience.

  “That’s right. It’s Claire’s big day. Say, has the wedding happened yet?”

  “No. They’re waiting for her aunt.” He pointed at the train just coming around the bend into view.

  “That’s good,” he said, with his eyes far past Jonathan, locked onto the train. “Tell me, Jon, have you heard from anyone lately?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Vincent shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Have you heard from…anyone?”

  “You okay, Sheriff? You look pale.”

  He gave a nervous smile. “It’s just a little warm today.” He pulled at his collar for show.

  The train slowed as it approached the platform, leaving a trail of billowing smoke behind it and squealed loudly as it came to a stop.

  They climbed the stairs and stood about ten feet from where the passengers would let off.

  ***

  “So let me get your story straight,” Sloan said as the train neared Rockport. “Your boat exploded and you hit your head. Charles pulled you out of the water and took you to his house where Elizabeth got rather possessive of you. Her mother, Cecile, had you spirited away, only Charles took you to Boston instead of Rockport by mistake. While he came to get me, you st
umbled away and ended up on a Chinese trading ship. They dumped you off in London and you were introduced to Gina, who took you back to Mickey’s warehouse. You did what you had to while you were there until you hit your head again and remembered who you were. Then you seized an opportunity and sold Gina out, sending a telegram to New York in order to get home.”

  Aryl kept his eyes on his knees while Sloan talked. “That’s the skeleton of it.”

  “I got it all down in this,” Sloan said, holding up the notebook. “What would you like me to do with it?”

  Aryl didn’t answer. He wanted to tell Sloan to burn it, but he knew he wouldn’t do that. Sloan didn’t press and tucked the notebook away as the train jerked to a stop.

  Sloan stood and Aryl stayed firmly planted in his seat. Gathering his bag, he looked over at Aryl.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “What do you mean?” Sloan dropped down in the seat next to him. “The Sheriff is right over there, I can see him right out your window. He’s who I telegrammed in Boston and I made sure to mention not to tell anyone. He’s here to help me take you to your family and friends. Home.” He stood again, arranging his coat over his arm.

  Aryl raised his head slowly and saw Vincent’s back. His hat blocked the face of the man he was talking to. Then Vincent turned and faced the train and Aryl’s breath caught.

  “Jon.”

  “Your friend?”

  “For as long as I can remember.”

  “Well, let’s not keep him waiting.” Sloan put his hand on Aryl’s arm and leaned down so only he could hear. “Aryl, there are doctors in Boston who can help you wean down off your medicine. Completely get off the stuff.”

  He pulled a pen and paper from his pocket. “Here’s my number at the precinct. After you get settled and reacquainted, if you’re interested in what these doctors can do for you, call me. I’ll bring you up to Boston and take you myself. But whatever you do, don’t let that medicine stop you from getting off this train.”

  Aryl took the paper and folded it neatly before slipping it into his bag. Then his eyes were drawn over again and he watched Jon.

  “Okay,” he said quietly.

  He stayed very close behind Sloan as they walked down the narrow aisle toward the door, clutching his bag. Sloan took the last step off the train and turned.

  “Remember,” he said very seriously. “Not a word about telling each other stories in the bath.”

  Aryl broke out in a grin as he stepped down and when he looked up, Jonathan was staring at him.

  His grin faded, ready to say something though he had no idea what that might be. Other passengers stepped around and in front of them.

  Jonathan was frozen. Vincent was the first one to move.

  “Detective Sloan?” His voice was laced with question.

  “Sheriff Vincent. Nice to see you again.”

  “It is. Thank you for sending me that telegram. I didn’t believe it, but…here he is.” He spoke to Sloan but still hadn’t taken his eyes off Aryl. Jonathan had managed to take a few steps.

  “A-Aryl?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

  He nodded. “It’s me, Jon.”

  “How? Where?”

  Aryl looked at Sloan with a bit of panic. Sloan nodded reassurance and Aryl turned back to Jonathan.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m home now.”

  Jonathan walked quickly, stopping just short of throwing his arms around him, holding his hands out as if afraid to touch him and find that he wasn’t real.

  Aryl met him with a smile. “C’mon, you’re not going to cry in public are you,” he managed to choke out.

  Jonathan grabbed him in a violently strong hug.

  Sloan stood off to the side, watching. Vincent was firing questions at him, but he didn’t hear. In fact he heard nothing, not the passenger’s chatter, pushing past with their luggage, not the hum of the train engine idling, the choking laughter of best friends trying to hold back a flood of emotion for a more private place, or the seagulls calling overhead. His shoulders slowly fell as he released a breath he felt like he’d been holding in for years, and reveled in the sight of finally bringing someone home.

  I rode with Vincent, following Aryl in Jonathan’s sputtering automobile. I watched it with a grin, thinking that it must have been one of the first horseless carriages ever to roll off the assembly line. It looked as if it were barely holding itself together as it clanged and banged through downtown Rockport.

  He weaved a lot, no doubt constantly looking over at Aryl in astonishment. I wondered how Aryl was doing facing Jonathan’s questions and if I should have abandoned him so quickly. I’d wanted to ride with them, but Vincent insisted I come with him and explain.

  He was somewhere in the middle of a profuse apology for turning cold on me when I’d come poking my nose around a few months earlier and I waved it off.

  And of course he wanted to know how I found Aryl. I gave him the short story, centering it on the search for Daniel Bellamy and crediting that for the lucky find. I left out most all of what Aryl had told me in confidence. That was his to share.

  “One in a million,” he said after I finished. He shook his head, smiling. “Good work, Sloan.”

  For some reason, Vincent’s simple but heartfelt words meant more to me than all the compliments I’d ever received from the Captain.

  We followed Jonathan as he turned into a long driveway with a white farmhouse at the end of it.

  “This is Caleb and Arianna’s place.”

  “Oh,” I said, as my face lit up. “I’ve heard about her.”

  Vincent grinned. “I’m sure you have,” he said as he came to a stop and turned off the engine.

  It looked like a celebration of some kind was about to start. “Did you say anything?” I asked, looking over the tables of food and white decorations.

  “No, this is Claire’s wedding. Looks like Aryl got here just in time.”

  “You don’t lie,” I said quietly and watched the crowd come to a standstill as Aryl stepped out of the car. Jonathan jogged around the car and gripped his arm, anchoring him in case he might float away.

  I recognized something very familiar in Jonathan’s face, his body language, the way he stood tall and held onto Aryl with one hand and pushed through the crowd with the other. I had been the one to bring Aryl home. But Jonathan needed to be the one to present him to Claire. I didn’t know why and didn’t need to. We all had our part to play in Aryl’s return and I was just happy to play mine.

  It was so quiet, only the wailing of a baby cut through the silence. I watched people step up and then back, unsure of what to do or say. Then Jonathan walked him into the house. I craned my head to watch Aryl until the last. Vincent turned to me.

  “Would you like to get out and meet everyone?”

  “No, no thank you. I’m fine.” I lit a cigarette and hoped Vincent didn’t see my slightly shaking hands.

  “Are you sure? I’m sure they’d all love to thank you for bringing him home.”

  A few people glanced toward the car with questions in their eyes, but the shock of Aryl’s appearance took center stage. I was happy to hang back.

  “I don’t want thanks, Sheriff. I’d just like to sit here and look at them for a moment, if that’s alright.”

  “Anything you want,” Vincent said.

  That’s what I wanted and that’s what I did. Watched everyone huddle and talk, watched a man run inside the house and a few minutes later run back out and into the barn. It was raw and real and some of the best moments of my life.

  There was something genuine about these people. Something that made me want to stay a bit and walk around town again with fresh eyes. Maybe I’d bring Maggie here for the weekend and rent a little place by the beach. Yeah, I liked that idea.

  After a bit Jonathan stepped back outside. Everyone surged forward and their voices echoed across the yard.

  “It’s him?” An auburn h
aired woman stepped up and asked with disbelief.

  Jonathan smiled. “It is.”

  “How?”

  Vincent nudged me. “Like it or not, I think that’s your cue.”

  I pulled the notebook out of my bag, tucked it in my breast pocket and stepped out of the car. As I walked questions started ringing out from all sides. I didn’t want praise and I didn’t want to stay long.

  “This is Detective Sloan,” Jonathan said. “He was the one who really tracked Aryl down.”

  I stubbed out my cigarette so I could shake his hand. “I’m glad this was a happy ending for you,” I said. “They aren’t always,” I felt compelled to add.

  “Thank you. But we were hoping you could fill us in on how all this came about? How did you know to look for Aryl when the rest of us thought he was dead? Where did you find him? How did you find him?”

  I pulled out the notebook.

  “While I was waiting for the boat to come in I recounted the whole crazy thing. I’d love to stay, but see, I’ve decided to retire.” I stopped for a moment, shocked at my own words. I let them float in the air for a moment and when I decided I liked how they sounded, I went on.

  “I’m ending my career on a good note. And I’m going to take my wife on vacation. I’d really like to get home and tell her.”

  Jonathan took the notebook. “This explains it?”

  “It explains everything,” I said and smiled. I took one last look at them. Then I tipped my hat and said, “You folks take care.”

  Once back with Vincent I asked him to drive me to the train station, and fast.

  Back in Boston

  May 2nd 1931

  Maggie was still staring at the pewter charm of a baby bootie.

  “Richard Sloan, what’s gotten into you?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t care because I’ve never felt this good. I’ve spent the last five days going along with whatever the day brought. I drank old wine off service carts and ate caviar for free. I stayed up all night and watched the sunrise with no regard for schedule or how the rest of the world thinks a person should live.