Lean on Me

by Claudia Hall Christian

“I have brought copies of a synopsis of Captain Olivas’s biography,” Army JAG Captain Tyler said.

  “Sanitized,” the FBI agent said, after looking at the document.

  “You can’t get his bio either?” Senior Field Agent Snypes asked.

  The FBI agent shook his head.

  “Captain Olivas works on a classified military team,” Army JAG Captain Tyler said. “We don’t believe Captain Olivas’s work has anything to do with your investigation. If there is information from his work that overlaps this case, I’ll be happy to make the appropriate phone calls for any information you request in writing.”

  “Just curious,” Detective Young said. “You’re a hard man to get a handle on. Your father claims you’re a foot soldier assigned to Iraq. He’s told more than one news outlet that you’re his brilliant ne’er-do-well son with serious mental health issues. But Senior Field Agent Snypes can get full backgrounds on foot soldiers with mental health issues. Hell, I can.”

  “I’ve brought copies of Captain Olivas’s last evaluations,” Army JAG Captain Tyler said. “He must take these tests every six months in order to maintain his current position.”

  “Wow,” Detective Young said. “Is your IQ really 187?”

  “If it says so,” Troy said. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “Profilers say that people who are that smart are crazy psychopaths,” FBI Agent Platt said.

  “I’m a Green Beret, sir,” Troy said. “Psychopaths either test out or get recruited for other services. You can see on the bio he gave you that I’ve spent most of my career in South and Central America. I have only been to Iraq once, and that was in the last year. I was in Afghanistan and Pakistan for the first time last month.”

  Detective Young set the papers down on the table and looked at him. Troy felt the man assess his very soul. Detective Young shrugged.

  “Have some trouble with your father?” Detective Young asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Troy said.

  “Me too,” Detective Young said. “How about you Platt?”

  The FBI agent gave Detective Young a steely look.

  “You don’t have to ask me,” Army CID Special Agent Snypes laughed. “The entire western United States is too small for my father and me. And I know you and your pops hate each other Tyler.”

  “My father’s dead,” Hawkins Mac Alister said. The men turned to look at him. Smiling, he said, “Thank God.”

  Troy looked from face to laughing face. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he didn’t think it was something bad.

  “Your father?” Detective Young’s face went from laughing to dead serious. “He’s a serious prick among pricks.”

  The other men nodded.

  “We have stacks of paper on you, Olivas. And now more paper,” Detective Young said. “Help us fill in the blanks. We’ll ask questions when we need to.”

  “The blanks?” Troy asked. “You mean like I met Dahlia in Sophomore Geometry class? She wasn’t very good at math but she was very pretty. She had this tiny piece of blonde hair that curled right at the nape of her neck when her hair was up. I was forced to rescue her…”

  “While that’s very interesting,” Army CID Special Agent Snypes said. “We agreed to start at April of this year.”

  F

  CHAPTER six

  Sunday morning

  October 25 – 7:45 a.m. EDT

  Harkers Island, North Carolina

  “I think you’re skinnier than you were the last time I saw you,” Mammy said. Her deep voice came out in High Tide Brogue.

  Alex could only smile. This life-toughened woman radiated love. Mammy held out her arms and Alex was all but engulfed in her soft folds. Mammy kissed her forehead.

  “How is your handsome husband?” Mammy asked.

  “Handsome,” Alex smiled. “He and Max are running the marathon today.”

  “You like the crazy ones?” Mammy peered into Alex’s face and leaned back to laugh. “I do too.”

  Alex laughed.

  “Now introduce me to your friends.” Threading her arm thought Alex’s elbow, Mammy leaned forward to see them better. “Zackary! I hear you had a new baby girl.”

  As if he was fifteen, Zack blushed. He gave her a goofy smile.

  “Did you bring Mammy some pictures?” she asked.

  “Yes ma’am,” Zack said.

  “Is she a dragon?” Mammy whispered.

  “No ma’am,” Zack said.

  “You’re going to have to explain that to Mammy,” she said. “The Mister tried a few times, but it’s confusing to an old island gal like me.”

  Alex covered a burst of laughter with a cough. Amused by her own joke, Mammy patted Alex’s back. Mammy was one of the world’s most accomplished and deadly assassins. She could still kill a man with her bare hands and not leave a mark, forensic evidence, or even a whisper that she’d been there.

  “And you must be Trece,” Mammy said. “Mr. Pershing talks about you.”

  Trece held out his hand for her to shake. She pulled him in for a hug.

  “Will you show Mammy your back?” The woman’s sharp eyes were kind with a touch of sadness.

  “Body armor,” Trece said.

  “Later then,” Mammy said. “When we’re better friends. You don’t want to go stripping in front of any old Mammy. That’s smart, very smart.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” As if he was being knighted by some foreign Queen, Trece blushed bright red.

  “I’ve heard you can spin a story,” Mammy said.

  “Yes ma’am,” Trece said. “I have a new baby girl too.”

  “Did you bring Mammy pictures?” Mammy asked.

  “Yes ma’am,” Trece said.

  “I knew we’d be good friends,” Mammy beamed at him. “And you young man? Who are you?”

  “Sergeant Clifford Mauer, US Air Force, ma’am,” Clifford popped to attention.

  “Well Clifford Mauer,” Mammy said. “What’s your story?”

  “Story ma’am?” Confused, Cliff looked at Zack then at Alex.

  “Now Mammy, he’s just young,” the bearded man who’d had a bent back said. “He’s here for us to make something of.”

  Mammy and the bearded man looked like they were going to eat Cliff whole. Cliff swallowed hard.

  “None of that,” Mammy said. “I have good coffee brewing and biscuits in the oven. The Mister made some of his blackberry jam last night specially for your visit. I bet you haven’t eaten. Anyone want some eggs?”

  Alex, Zack, and Trece nodded.

  “Better see if our ladies have twelve,” Mammy said to the man with a beard. He left the kitchen.

  “Where did he go?” Cliff whispered.

  “Chickens in the back,” Alex said. “They’re self-sufficient here. Did you grow the coffee, Mammy?”

  “Now Miss Alex, you know our coffee ain’t no good,” Mammy said. “The General mails Mammy coffee beans straight from Columbia. I roast it out back.”

  “The General?” Cliff whispered.

  “My dad,” Alex said.

  “General Hargreaves,” Mammy said. “I heard he’s not running for Senate again.”

  “He says he’s retiring,” Alex said.

  Mammy laughed and Alex smiled.

  “Why is that funny?” Cliff whispered.

  “You’d have to know the man,” Mammy said. “Now stop your whispering or I’ll make you go milk the cow.”

  “I grew up on a dairy farm, ma’am,” Cliff said. “How did you know?”

  “You just had that look,” Mammy said.

  “Oh come on, Mammy,” the man who’d pretended to have a trick knee said as he walked in the door. “No parlor tricks.”

  Mammy smiled.

  “She pulled our files when we reached the inner gate,” Alex said. “Relax. My guess is the cows have already been milked.”

  “We can’t pass up a fresh young farm boy, Miss Alex,” Mammy said. “There’s a lot of work to do here.”

  “I saw yo
ur son at the gate,” Alex said. “He’s handsome and strong.”

  “Our youngest? He’s a chip off the old block,” Mammy flushed with pride at the mention of the boy. “His brothers went down to the dock to entertain your friends there. Even brought them some biscuits.”

  Shaking her head, Alex smiled at the woman.

  “I’m happy to help,” Cliff beamed.

  “Go wash up,” Mammy said. “We’ll have a proper breakfast. You remember where the washroom is, Miss Alex?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Alex said.

  She waved to Trece, Zack and Cliff. The men followed her down the hallway to a small bathroom. Alex used the bathroom and scrubbed her hands.

  “Better really wash up,” Alex said when she came out. “She will check your hands.”

  Zack went into the bathroom.

  “What are we doing?” Trece asked.

  “We’re having breakfast,” Alex said. “And waiting. He’s probably not here. We’ll find out after breakfast.”

  “But…?” Trece started.

  “Can’t rush southern living,” Alex said. “We have to adapt.”

  “Are they trying to get us off guard?” Trece asked.

  “No,” Alex said. “After a lifetime in this game of death and politics, the pleasantries of life, such as a good meal, interesting conversation, pictures of babies, time with family, or working the farm becomes the only thing that really matters. Relax. Have breakfast. Enjoy them. If you’re lucky, they’ll teach you more than you will ever learn anywhere else.”

  “Why do I have the sense that they are dangerous?” Trece asked.

  “Oh, they’re deadly,” Alex said. “But don’t worry. If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead.”

  Smiling, she patted his back and he went into the bathroom. When he was done, they went back to the kitchen. As predicted, Mammy checked their hands for cleanliness. For no reason other than the fact that she could, she sent Cliff back to wash his hands again. When he returned, she escorted them to a sunny table near the kitchen. The two men who’d met them at the dock were drinking coffee at one end. Mammy told each of them where to sit, leaving Alex on the end. Mammy disappeared into the kitchen and returned with platters of food.

  “You do this at your house,” Zack said to Alex.

  “Imitating the best,” Alex said. “I’d love your biscuit recipe.”

  “Now Miss Alex,” Mammy sat down next to her. “It ain’t nothing but a little flour and butter.”

  “No recipe?” Alex asked.

  “Not that I’m going to give you, child,” Mammy laughed. “You can’t cook worth a damn. Where’s that handsome caramel-colored man? He used to visit Mammy at least once a month. I’d give that man almost anything if he asked.”

  Mammy blinked her eyes dramatically and Alex laughed. Raz and Mammy had an instant and abiding love for each other.

  “Raz gave me a present for you,” Alex said. “It’s in my backpack.”

  “He loves Mammy,” Mammy sighed.

  Alex laughed.

  “Who’s going to thank the Lord for this meal?” Mammy asked. “Young Clifford?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Cliff said.

  “She wants you to say the Hamotzi over the bread,” Alex said.

  “Yes sir,” Cliff said to Alex. “Blessed are you, Lord…”

  “You can say it in Hebrew, son,” the man with the beard said.

  “The Hamotzi is beautiful in Hebrew,” Mammy said. “We speak it.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Cliff began again in Hebrew.

  FFFFFF

  Sunday morning

  October 25 – 8:05 a.m. EDT

  The Greenhouse at The Jefferson Hotel, Capitol Hill

  “Elizabeth!” Rebecca Hargreaves said.

  She waved Troy’s mother, Elizabeth Jasper, over to her table. Perfectly coifed and wearing a linen dress suit, Rebecca looked every bit the heiress and Senator’s wife. The maitre d’ had seated her along the row of windows under the arched glass ceiling. Elizabeth wore the same elegant dress, but when Rebecca hugged her old friend, she felt Elizabeth’s body shake. Rebecca gestured to the chair across from her.

  “How are you dear?” Rebecca’s eyes took in Elizabeth’s haggard face.

  A controlled woman, Elizabeth gave a small shake of her head. Rebecca reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. Rebecca and Elizabeth had been friends since they were young mothers just starting out in life. Rather than press the issue, Rebecca changed the subject.

  “Did you have any trouble parking?” Rebecca asked.

  “It’s always crazy downtown,” Elizabeth said.

  “My kids are in town for the marathon,” Rebecca said. “Whatever possesses them to run twenty-six miles? I cannot imagine running five miles let alone twenty-six.”

  Rebecca gave Elizabeth an infectious smile. Elizabeth smiled in return. The waiter brought coffee, water, and menus.

  “Still, it’s fun to have them in town,” Rebecca said. She looked up and caught Elizabeth’s eye. “They’re staying at Gerry’s house.”

  “Lamberton?” said Elizabeth, startled.

  “I know,” Rebecca said. “But you know how children are. They refuse to stay with me.”

  Rebecca put cream in her coffee and took a long drink.

  “I always tell myself I’m going to stop drinking coffee,” Rebecca said. “I can hear my mother in my head. ‘Stains your teeth, Rebecca. It’s poor people’s cocaine, Rebecca.’ And on and on. I guess I feel a little rebellious with every sip. My Alex is absolutely addicted. Do not get between that girl and her coffee.”

  Rebecca laughed. Her eyes traced the exhaustion and worry on Elizabeth’s face.

  “Does Hector Senior know you’re here?” Rebecca asked.

  “Having breakfast with the enemy?” Elizabeth shook her head. “Not a chance.”

  She took a sip of her coffee and set it down.

  “I remember you used to drink your coffee with cream,” Rebecca held out the cream to Elizabeth.

  “Mr. Jasper says the cream makes me fat,” Elizabeth said.

  “Mr. Jasper?” Surprised, Rebecca’s eyebrows shot up. “When did that start?”

  “Wedding night?” Elizabeth gave a soft sigh.

  “Well, my dear, he’s not here,” Rebecca offered her the cream again. Smiling, Elizabeth poured some in her coffee. She drank the entire cup. Rebecca wiggled a finger and the waiter filled their cups.

  “He wasn’t this bad,” Elizabeth said. “When we were young and the kids were young. At least that’s what I tell myself. I was going to cancel today but…”

  The waiter asked about their orders. Before Elizabeth could speak, Rebecca ordered Lobster Eggs Benedict and the Lemon Ricotta Maple Pancakes for them to share.

  “After all, someone has to make up all the calories my children are burning at the marathon,” Rebecca laughed.

  Rebecca’s eyes followed the young man when Elizabeth grabbed both of Rebecca’s hands.

  “I came today because I know you’ll tell me the truth,” Elizabeth said.

  “It’s been a long time since you’ve wanted to hear the truth, dear,” Rebecca said.

  “My son is dead,” Elizabeth said. “Everyone around me is screaming lies at the top of their lungs. Every time I turn around, there’s another closed door and another secret meeting. Lawyers… scary looking bodyguards… I don’t have any idea where my only grandsons are. My daughter stomps around saying crazy things. I want to… No, I need the unvarnished truth. Will you give that to me?”

  “Of course,” Rebecca said.

  “And all the reports?” Elizabeth asked. “Photographs?”

  “I have them with me,” Rebecca said.

  Elizabeth let out a breath and leaned back. She looked as if an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “Why are we meeting today?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I originally invited you because Troy and Dahlia were engaged yesterday,” Rebecca said. “I was going to thr
ow them an engagement party tonight. I thought you’d like to know everything.”

  “And why did you keep this appointment after…” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “…everything?”

  “I thought you’d like to see a familiar face,” Rebecca said.

  “Is the General here?” Elizabeth asked.

  “He’s waiting for us in the lobby,” Rebecca said. “Would you like him here?”

  “Can we go somewhere more private?” Elizabeth asked.

  “He hoped you would say that,” Rebecca said. “Are you ready?”

  “What about breakfast?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I’ll ask them to deliver to the room,” Rebecca said. “If not, there’s always some young man or woman who’d like to make a generous tip.”

  Elizabeth stood from her seat. She was about to leave the table when she picked up the cream pitcher.

  “I think I’ll need this,” Elizabeth said.

  Smiling, Rebecca escorted Elizabeth to where Patrick waited for them.

  FFFFFF

  Sunday morning

  October 25 – 8:45 a.m. EDT

  Harkers Island, North Carolina

  Alex’s attention was so focused on her excellent coffee that she didn’t notice Mammy’s youngest son until he was standing next to her. He smiled and nodded. She got up from the table and he took her place. Mammy set a clean plate and cup in front of him. Alex grabbed her back pack and picked up her plate and cup. When Trece tried to follow, Mammy said:

  “Settle down, boy. We’re just getting acquainted.”

  “But…” Trece started.

  Mammy passed her son a plate of biscuits.

  “She’s in good hands,” Steve Pershing appeared from the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late.”

  He bent to kiss Mammy’s cheek.

  “Did you bring them?” Mammy asked.

  “French cream from the store in Léon,” Steve said. “Fresh crumpets from San Francisco. Baked this morning.”

  “Oh, Mr. Steve,” Mammy smiled a bright toothy smile. “You spoil Mammy. I bet my new friend, Clifford, will cream Mammy some fresh butter.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Cliff said. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “Nice boy,” Mammy said. “Now move over and make room for Mr. Pershing’s skinny ass. He don’t take up but an inch or two.”