Loyal Be Jack

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by Robert Tarrant


  I walked around the room turning on every light I could find, hoping that the light would help clear my head. I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I needed to process everything that had gone on the past few minutes, but I was struggling to feel like my brain was firing on all cylinders. I remembered the dinner in the refrigerator that I had purchased when I checked in. I put it in the microwave and made a cup of coffee in the Keurig. Even though it was the middle of the night, I knew my sleeping was over. I had some serious thinking to do. Nothing fit. Why snatch a woman off the street up here and transport her all of the way downstate to release her mere hours before you were going to collect the ransom? And why would Katharine, a woman who takes no guff from anyone, resist reporting her own kidnapping to the police? Things just didn’t add up.

  Between the unremarkable microwave dinner and the two cups of in-room coffee, I was able to clear my head. Still, all I could do was recount what I knew and the order the events had transpired. I couldn’t make sense of them. I debated about driving back to the lodge but decided that was foolish since I felt obligated to go into the bank and tell Mr. Liddy in person that I no longer needed the cash. He had gone to so much trouble that I felt he deserved a face-to-face explanation. Even if the explanation was a lie. I would also need to make arrangements to have the fifty-thousand dollars wired back to Harry’s account.

  I decided I should make a list of the actions I needed to take this morning. Looking around the room, I found a pen on the desk but the usual small pad of notepaper was nowhere to be found. An oversight by housekeeping. Then I remembered that the small notepad from Katharine’s law firm, which I’d picked up in her room at the lodge, was in my jacket pocket. I retrieved it and sat down at the desk. Under the intensity of the desk lamp, I noticed the imprint of a number on the first blank page. I figured that a number had been written on the preceding page and then the page removed, leaving the imprint on the top sheet. I tilted the page at an angle under the light. It was a phone number, and it looked vaguely familiar. If it was familiar to me, I must have punched it in recently and not just called a contact previously entered in my phone. I opened the recent calls list on my phone but didn’t see the number. I had no idea why this number on a notepad of Katharine’s intrigued me so much, but it did. I knew it was familiar but couldn’t recall why. I entered the number as if I was going to call it, thinking that the action might trigger my recall. My phone immediately displayed the words Mobile Governor Robert Armstrong. Mystery solved. I had entered the number when the governor had given it to me a couple of days ago. He must have called Katharine and given her his personal cell number as well.

  After my short distraction, I set about listing everything I needed to accomplish in order to undo the actions I’d taken to secure the now unnecessary ransom. I had exhausted the supply of coffee in the room, so once I finished my list, I wandered downstairs to see if I could find a cup in the lobby. My trip was rewarded with fresh coffee just put out by the staff preparing for the breakfast service. I drank coffee in the lobby for an hour and perused the newspaper. I was surprised how many “road warriors” left the hotel in the early hours of the morning. It seemed to be a mixture of business people, blue-collar workers, and retirees. I wasn’t really hungry, having eaten my microwavable meal only a few hours earlier, but the smell of bacon drew me into the breakfast area shortly after it opened.

  While I ate, I kept replaying the events of the past couple of days over and over in my mind. I just couldn’t make the occurrences add up. Was Katharine’s kidnapping a spur of the moment act? Did the kidnappers get cold feet? Was that why they released her? Why didn’t she want to report it to the police? What about taking her to the cabin for such a short time? Where did they have her the remainder of the time? Finally, I decided that I wasn’t going to understand what had happened until I talked to Katharine. I got myself another cup of coffee and went back up to my room.

  It was 7:00 a.m. so I knew PJ would be up by now. I had decided to call her earlier but wanted the privacy of the room. She answered, “Hi, Jack. You’re out and about early, or did coverage at the place you’re staying get better?”

  “It’s a long story.” I spent the next fifteen minutes explaining everything that had gone on since Katharine’s arrival. PJ didn’t say anything about Katharine being at the lodge with me, but I heard her tone tighten a little after I told that portion of the story.

  When I got to the point in the story where Katharine was kidnapped, PJ immediately shifted into her cop persona. She let me tell the entire story, the contact from the kidnappers, our failed raid, my efforts to obtain the ransom, and Katharine’s release without asking a question. I could picture her in my mind’s eye sitting upright jotting notes on a pad as I talked. I could also predict the first words out of her mouth, and she didn’t fail me. “Jack, you should have called the police.”

  “I knew you’d say that. I would say the same thing if the tables were reversed. I was just afraid that given the small town dynamics and the short timeframe of the kidnappers’ demands that the police weren’t the best tactic.”

  “Well, at least you should have called me. Even if I couldn’t convince you to call the police, I could have been a sounding board for you. You don’t always have to go it alone, Jack.” PJ’s tone was different. I couldn’t quite decide how to read it. Somewhere between mother and spouse. Certainly caring.

  “I know, PJ. I just seemed to be reacting as events unfolded. I should have called you right after the kidnappers contacted me.” Switching subjects, I asked, “What do you make of Katharine’s sudden release?”

  Before she would answer my question, PJ had me tell the entire story again, this time stopping me several times to clarify points. At the end, she said, “I will tell you that the whole things seems strange to me, Jack. I can’t say specifically why, but it just smells funny.” She paused and then added, “Of course, the whole thing could become crystal clear when you talk to Katharine later today. Do you have a time set to talk with her? Are you going to go to see her in person or talk on the phone?”

  I replied, “Actually, we left it that she would call me later in the day, after she rested.”

  “I thought the cell coverage at the lodge was unreliable?”

  I reflected on PJ’s comment. She was correct. The coverage was poor, and Katharine was certainly aware of that. Then I realized that Katharine had no reason to believe I was anywhere except the lodge when she called at 1:00 a.m. Maybe it just didn’t occur to her at the time. After all, she had just been released by kidnappers. I replied to PJ. “You’re correct. The coverage at the lodge is bad. I guess Katharine didn’t think of that when she said she’d call me later.”

  “Or she did and thought that would be a good excuse for not talking to you.”

  I asked, “Why would that be?” Then I answered my own question. “Unless she thinks I will continue to pressure her to report it to the police and she doesn’t want to deal with that issue at this point.”

  There was a pause before PJ asked, “How close are you to finishing the work you are doing at the lodge?”

  I hadn’t even thought about my promise to Benjamin since I’d left the lodge nearly twenty-four hours ago. “Ah, well actually I’m done with the work I need to do there. I’ve gone through all of the records and what I found seems too vague to really do anything about.”

  “Can you be a little more specific?”

  I gave PJ an account of the entries talking about Benjamin’s intervention on behalf of Shifty with his sexual assault victims. The more I talked, the less convinced I was that I could do anything to rectify the situations. After I finished, PJ affirmed my feelings. She said, “So, you have no way to identify the victims, nor this guy called Shifty? I don’t see how you can move forward, Jack. Promise or no promise. Your father-in-law just didn’t leave you enough information. That’s not your fault, Jack. But let’s get back to this situation with Katharine. If I were you, I would
drive to her home and talk to her in person. Face-to-face. After all you went through for her, she owes you that courtesy. And who knows, maybe after you hear the story from her perspective, everything will fall into place. Maybe you’ll even understand why she doesn’t want to report it.”

  “You’re right, PJ. I need to hear her story in person. I think I’ll do exactly that. I need to clear up things at the bank as soon as it opens and then I’ll go to the lodge and pick up my things and head downstate.”

  “I have one more quick question. Any idea when you’ll be heading back down here?” This was asked with a warm tone distinctly different from PJ’s earlier cop tone. This was a personal question.

  “I don’t see any reason why I can’t head back tomorrow. Even if I convince Katharine to report her abduction to the police, I should be able to give them a statement and head home. Marge is anxious for me to get back there and help deal with the insurance company.”

  “Marge isn’t the only one who’s anxious for you to get back.”

  “Oh, really? Who else is anxious?”

  “Angela.”

  “Your daughter. Why is she anxious for me to get back?”

  “She says you distract my attention from mothering her. She says you improve the quality of her life.”

  “And how does her mother feel about that?”

  “Her mother is anxious for you to get back, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  After my call with PJ, I called Marge. She sounded sincerely excited when I told her that Katharine had been released. She asked a string of questions, most of which I couldn’t answer. Talking with PJ and Marge only solidified for me the fact that Katharine hadn’t really told me anything when she called. Certainly, that could have been the result of the traumatic event she had just endured, but somehow the more I replayed the conversation in my head, the more uneasy I felt. I didn’t know why, but things just didn’t feel right.

  I transitioned the conversation from Katharine’s release to the issues surrounding returning the money to Harry. I mentioned that I didn’t know if the wire transfer had taken place yet, but that if it had, I needed to know how Harry would like the money returned. Marge told me that Harry had received confirmation that the transfer had gone through just before the close of business yesterday. I speculated that he would probably like it returned to the same account it had come from. Marge replied, “Hang on a sec.” A few seconds later, she said, “Yes, just return the money to the same account. The bank up there should have all of the necessary information from the transfer.” It occurred to me that Marge was speaking with such authority on the matter that she must have asked Harry. That could have only occurred if Harry was with her, and at this hour of the morning that meant that either they had met for breakfast or they had spent the night together. I found myself smiling. Marge and Harry. Now that’s an interesting prospect.

  I talked a few more minutes with Marge, several times expressing my gratitude to both her and Harry. She seemed pleased that I expected to be able to fly home the following day. When I inquired about the situation with the insurance company and prospective contractors, she replied that things were progressing slowly but that we could discuss it in depth when I returned. After ending the call, I reflected on the people I had become close to since my abrupt relocation to Florida. PJ, Marge, Moe, Justin, Dana, Renee, all the people who had stood by me in recent good times and bad. While the cause of my relocation and the dark period immediately following it were low points in my life, the friendships that had developed since then were invaluable. Maybe it was the effects of the copious amount of caffeine I had ingested this morning, but I felt younger. Energized to embark on the next chapter of life.

  I suddenly remembered that I had promised to call Gunny and tell him how things were working out. Calling him had completely slipped my mind. After everything he had done to help me, I certainly owed him the courtesy of telling him Katharine had been released. I knew it was early — if he had closed the bar last night, he might well still be sleeping — but hit his contact in my phone anyway. I’d rather take his ire for waking him than for not informing him.

  Gunny answered on the second ring. His voice was clear and strong. Didn’t sound like he’d been sleeping. “Gunny, it’s Jack. Sorry to call so early, but I’ve got news. Katharine’s been released. She’s safe.”

  “Damn. That is great news. So, you got the ransom?”

  “No. Well, yes. I did have the ransom arranged but couldn’t get the cash from the bank until this morning. I told them that the money was coming. Still, for some unknown reason they released her in the middle of the night.”

  I heard Gunny laugh. “What the hell kind of morons are you dealing with?”

  “That same thought crossed my mind.”

  “How is she? I’m sure she’s traumatized, but how is she otherwise?”

  I went into depth explaining the call I had received from Katharine and her resistance to seeing me or contacting the police. I thought Gunny would find that as strange as I did. He didn’t. His response was, “Jack, you’ve got to remember she’s just gone through a terribly traumatic event. I don’t think it’s unusual for a victim to want to stick their head in the sand in hopes of forgetting the entire ordeal even happened. Give her a few hours and approach her gently, she might come around to telling you what happened. Your best approach might be to convince her to talk to a professional, a psychologist, about the whole thing. That might help her deal with it and give her the strength to tell the story to the police.”

  Now, I felt like an insensitive jerk. I’d read Katharine's reluctance to talk to me as evasiveness and here was the crusty old Marine pointing out that her reaction was very typical for the victim of a traumatic event. He was no doubt correct. Not only had I read the situation wrong, but I had led everyone I talked to, PJ and Marge, down the same path. I must have been lost in thought because Gunny said, “Jack, you still there?”

  “Yeah, Gunny. I was just reflecting on what you said. I think you’re right. I should have seen it myself.”

  He lectured, “Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s not like you haven’t been through the same stressful situation. Your experience was different than hers but just as stressful. You had her safety, her life, in your hands. You need a little time to wind down yourself.” His words soothed my self-loathing some but not completely. We talked a few more minutes, and when I told him I was coming back to pick up my things at the lodge, he made me promise to stop in at the Buck Pole and say goodbye before I left town.

  I checked out of the hotel and was at the bank when the doors opened. Franklin Liddy was talking to another man in the center of the lobby when I entered. He looked surprised when he saw me. After concluding his conversation, he joined me and said, “Mr. Nolan, good to see you, but the cash won’t be here until 10:00 a.m. I’m sorry if you thought it would be sooner. The wire transfer of the funds from Florida did come in at the end of the day yesterday, so we’re all set. As soon as the cash arrives from the Federal Reserve, we’ll complete your withdrawal for you.” He hesitated and then continued, “It’s none of my business, but do you think you should have some type of protection while you’re carrying that much cash? You know, someone from one of the security guard services.”

  “I no longer need the cash, Mr. Liddy. That’s why I’m here early. I learned late last night that the owner is no longer willing to sell the property.” I forced a chuckle. “I guess when you attempt to do business with eccentric people, you have to accept eccentric behavior. I certainly appreciate all of your assistance in this matter and hope the unneeded transfer of the cash won’t cause you any problems with the Federal Reserve.”

  Liddy seemed momentarily confused but then an understanding of my words seemed to blossom on his face. “Well, I see, Mr. Nolan. The Fed, don’t worry about that. That’s no problem. I’m just sorry your deal fell through. I know you really had your heart set on that property.” I wondered to myself if
I would have felt differently about lying to this man if he hadn’t seemed like such a genuinely caring guy. If he was more akin to Snidely Whiplash, would I have felt less guilty? I shook off my self-examination and completed the business of returning the fifty-thousand dollars to Harry’s account and closing out my short-lived account at National Bank of Northern Michigan.

  The autumn air was crisp, bordering on cold, but the sky was clear. There was real potential for the sun to warm the day as I drove north toward Vanderbilt. The relief of knowing that Katharine was safe was finally sinking in, and the farther I drove, the more my good mood built. I would collect my things and Benjamin’s notes referring to Shifty at the lodge. I could review the notes one more time in the next day but couldn’t imagine any way to move forward. Unfortunately, Benjamin had died before giving me the critical piece of information I needed to even attempt to fulfill the promise he had elicited. How could I move forward without the identity of Shifty or his victims? He would just have to understand. I tried. It’s just impossible. I would give everything one more review, though. I’d see Katharine this afternoon, and if she didn’t feel like telling me the story of her abduction, I would encourage her to seek professional help to put the entire ugly event behind her. Tomorrow I would be free to return to Florida. Even with the problems related to Cap’s Place and the decisions I still needed to face, I was feeling an unmistakable draw back to Florida.

  It only took a couple of minutes to pack my things at the lodge. I double-checked around the main floor to make certain I hadn’t forgotten anything. I contemplated packing up Katharine’s things in the master suite and taking them to her and then decided that might be a little too intimate an action for an ex-husband. Katharine would eventually send someone up to Vanderbilt to retrieve her car from the parking lot where she was abducted, and they could pick up anything she needed from the lodge. I made a mental note to call Andy or Sharon and tell them that I had left. They’d probably want to clean out the refrigerator and take what other actions they needed to close the place up again.

 

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