by A. E. Howe
“You’re boring me to death. Look, I didn’t murder Parrish. I’ll save you some time on that. I didn’t kill either Parrish. The old man or the son.”
“But you do know Jane?”
“I knew her a long time ago. Her family was a bunch of jerks. Back then I just wanted a good time.”
“And what do you want now?”
“I’m just trying to get along and not hurt anybody.”
Darlene came back. “He’s not wanted for anything today. But he has a string of arrests and a few convictions that stretch back to the days when he had a full head of hair,” Darlene said.
“Ouch,” Joel said, smoothing down his comb over. “Now can I go?”
Darlene ignored him. “Most of the convictions are for fraud. Two arrests were for fighting, but those were the only ones for violent crimes and the charges were dropped.”
“Where are you staying?” I asked him.
“An amazing four-star establishment called the Roads Best. Room 214 which, for all of its shortcomings, does have a shower that delivers very hot water. I’d like to go make use of it.” He paused and then added, “Please.” This last word actually sounded sincere.
I held up his driver’s license. “Okay, you can go, but I’m going to hold on to this. I’ll give it back to you tomorrow morning at nine o’clock at the sheriff’s office.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Or I can give it back to you now and you can spend the night at the jail being held as a material witness in two murders,” I bargained.
“You’re serious.”
I stared at him, holding out the driver’s license. He looked at the card, then shrugged.
“Whatever. I’ll see you in the morning then,” he grumbled.
I gave him back his keys and wallet. After he’d walked off, Darlene turned to me. “You didn’t ask him about the break-in at Albert Griffin’s or the shooting at your place.”
“No. I don’t want him to know how much we already know about his activities. We’ll toss all that at him tomorrow morning. I plan on grilling him until he’s well done to burnt,” I said between gritted teeth. I was still holding a grudge over him clamping onto my foot.
“The jail will appreciate you letting him get clean in the hotel’s shower.”
Cara and Alvin had walked over to join us. “You ready to get our day back on track?” I asked her.
“I don’t know. This was pretty entertaining,” she said with a grin.
“Aren’t you a cutie?” Darlene said, bending down to scratch Alvin behind the ears.
“Appreciate your help,” I told Darlene.
“Anytime. What are Sunday mornings for if not pulling a suspect out of a well? I’ll run by the Roads Best and make sure that’s where he went.”
“See you in the morning.”
Ten minutes later Cara and I were back on the road.
“You still haven’t told me where we’re headed,” she prodded.
“Torreya State Park. It’s only about half an hour from here. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“What an amazing view,” Cara said, once we were standing on the high bluff overlooking the Apalachicola River. “You’d expect to see something like this in north Georgia, not Florida.”
Her red hair was blowing in a gentle breeze and her blue eyes were wide with awe. I smiled, loving the sight of her. I put my arms around her as we turned to look at the charming Gregory House that rose behind us. The white two-story house had been built in 1849 on the other side of the river, but the Civilian Conservation Corps had moved it to the bluff in the 1930s when the state park was developed.
“Do you want to walk the trails?” I asked. The sky was clear blue and the air held the pleasant warmth of early spring
“I’m game. But what about you? How’s your ankle?”
“It’s sore, but not too bad. I think I can make it. Alvin, you in?” I asked the Pug, who was too busy sniffing the ground to look up and enjoy the view.
The first part of the trail was steep as it dipped down to within fifty feet of the river elevation.
“I can’t believe I haven’t come over here before this,” Cara marveled.
“During the nineteenth century, this was considered one of the possible locations of Eden,” I told her.
“Really?”
“Yep. There are hundreds of rare species along this part of the river. All of this area has these steep ravines where creeks have eroded the ground. They allow plants and animals to be cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter.”
“I didn’t know you had a botanist side,” she kidded me as we navigated the rough earthen trail.
“I came camping here with the Boy Scouts a few times. I admit, it always made me feel like I lived in a special place.”
“Eden. I can understand why they might have thought that on a… visceral level. The woods and the river are beautiful, wild and comforting all at the same time,” Cara said.
The trail widened a little and I took her hand. “I like seeing the world through your eyes.” I told her. She laughed lightly. “What’s funny?”
“I got to see the world through your eyes this morning. And I hate to admit it, but I found it kind of exciting.”
“Oh, sure, it wasn’t you that got stuck in the hole,” I chided her good-naturedly.
“Are you ready to turn back? You’re limping again,” she said with concern.
I stopped and pulled her to me. “I’m not sappy enough to say that when I’m with you I don’t feel any pain. But I can definitely say that being with you makes it all worth it.” I gave her a long kiss, then pulled away and looked down. “Your heavy breathing is not making this more romantic,” I told Alvin, who looked up at me with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
Walking back up the hill in the late afternoon sunlight, we stopped to read the historical markers placed where Confederate gun pits could still be seen. “War comes to Eden,” Cara said thoughtfully.
I ended up carrying Alvin the final hundred yards of the trail back up the bluff. “I’m the one with the bum leg. You should be carrying me,” I told him. He was unimpressed with my reasoning.
By the time we left the park, I was feeling like a new man. Even a mini-vacation is still a vacation.
Chapter Thirteen
We were halfway back to my house when the text alert on my phone went off. Under my I-have-nothing-to-hide policy, I let Cara read it.
“It says: ‘She’s headed to your place. Sorry.’”
“Is it from Eddie?” I asked, knowing it was and, unfortunately, knowing who he was talking about.
“Is it Marcy?”
“Who else?” I answered, letting my foot fall a little heavier on the gas pedal. So much for the mini-vacation.
“You still haven’t given her the book?” Cara asked.
“No, I haven’t seen her. And it’s not like I can put out a BOLO on her.”
“Why not… oh.”
“Exactly. It’s really frowned upon for law enforcement officers to use our resources to track current or former significant others. They spent the better part of two hours in one of my academy classes explaining the deep shit you can get into if you let your personal life mix with your professional life.”
“But you’re starting to think she may have a connection to the murders, aren’t you?”
“And that’s a problem. If I tell anyone that, the next thing I’ll be told is that I should step back and let someone else handle the case.” It was very frustrating. The ethics surrounding the separation of work and personal life were a lot more complex in a small community like Adams County where everyone knew everyone or, at most, there was just one degree of separation.
“I can be impartial where Marcy is concerned. Unfortunately, she can’t be.”
“I don’t want to criticize, but it does look like your blood pressure goes up every time you mention her name,” Cara said matter-of-factly.
“I admit that there is
still some… pain, mixed with a little fear, from my past relationship with her. But I’m still able to make rational decisions where she’s concerned. What the hell?!”
This exploded out of my mouth when we rounded the corner before my place and I saw Marcy kicking the lock on my gate. Her car was parked in the driveway, preventing me from pulling in. I had to pull off on the side of the road.
“Stop that!” I yelled when I got out of the car.
Marcy looked up, her face red and her breathing labored from kicking my gate. As soon as she saw me, she started toward me, stomping her feet and clearly taking the offensive.
Realizing what I was walking into, I held up my hand. “Don’t come any closer,” I told her in my best authoritarian voice.
“What? You going to be the big cop and arrest me? You’re the one who stole my book. Give it back. Now!”
She kept coming. My choices were narrowing with the seconds. I could retreat or defend. So I chose option three: capitulate.
“You’re right. I’ll give you your book. I didn’t know that I had it the last time we talked.” I was holding up both hands, palms out, in the traditional posture of surrender. I could only hope that she was in the mood to take prisoners.
“You have it?” she asked suspiciously. “Here?”
“Yes. If you’ll let me get by you, I’ll unlock the gate and we can go up and get the book. Treasure Island, right?” I was speaking in the same voice I reserved for drunks and the mentally challenged.
“Okay. But no tricks.” She backed up and then seemed to notice Cara sitting in my car. “Who’s that?” she asked, suspicious all over again.
“A friend. Let’s just go up to the house and get this over with.” I wanted to question her about her choice of friends and what they’d been up to together, but this didn’t seem like the right time.
“Yeah, don’t think I’m jealous,” Marcy said.
What? I thought. How delusional are you? But she turned around. I followed her and opened the gate under her watchful glare.
Once I was back in my car, I turned to Cara. “I told her I’d give her the book. She’s obviously madder than a mad hatter.”
“She’s a little scary,” Cara agreed.
“You can stay in the car,” I said, pulling in and following Marcy up the driveway.
“No. I want to watch the show. You might need backup.”
I parked well clear of Marcy’s car so that she would have no trouble backing up and turning around, no matter what kind of mood she was in when she left.
She was standing on the small porch, looking around nervously. Cara and I got out of the car, Alvin in tow, and cautiously joined her on the porch. I moved past Marcy with my key out.
“I’m Cara,” I heard behind me. I hoped a fight wouldn’t break out before we made it inside.
“Right. Guess you know I’m Marcy. I had him long before you.”
I cringed and swung the door open quickly.
“Come on in. I’ll get the book and you can be on your way.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” Marcy asked.
“Frankly, yes,” I said soberly as I left the room.
I came back to find Cara and Marcy trying hard not to look at each other. I held out the book and Marcy came to grab it out of my hand.
I pulled it back. “Not so fast. I want a couple of answers first.”
“You bastard!” Marcy shouted and tried to grab the book. I held it up out of reach.
“Stop! Or I swear I’ll burn it.” I was speaking the truth and Marcy knew it. She stopped and really looked at me for the first time that afternoon. I swear she actually growled at me.
“I want you to answer a few questions, that’s all. You have some very dodgy friends. I met one of them this morning.”
I could see by the look in her eyes that I now had her full attention. “Who?” Before I could answer, she launched into damage control mode. “I grew up here. I’ve got a lot of friends. You’re just picking on me ’cause you’re still pissed about us breaking up. I ought to report you. Oh, yeah, your daddy’s the sheriff, so that won’t work. Well, screw you!”
I let her rant herself out, then asked, “How do you know Joel Patrick?”
“Who says I know him?”
“He does.”
“He’s lying,” she pouted.
I sighed. “Let’s sit down.” I’d decided to try a different tack.
“Why?”
“Because we used to be friends, and I want to make sure that you aren’t getting into something that you’re going to regret,” I said reasonably.
“You don’t control my life! Just ’cause we were friends once…” She continued to rant, then roughly swept a pile of books and papers off of my dining room table and onto the floor.
“She’s not crazy,” Cara said, loudly enough to be heard over Marcy’s ravings. I think that both Marcy and I had forgotten that Cara was in the room. She’d been standing back out of the way, but now she stepped forward. I winced, thinking: This can’t be good.
“Why the hell is she even here?!” Marcy shouted and waved her arms.
“This is just an act. How long have you been using the crazy girlfriend routine to get your way?” Cara asked calmly.
I stepped between them. “I don’t think—” I started, but Cara gave me a look that stopped me.
“Let the woman talk. I’ve seen crazy and she’s not crazy,” Cara argued. I wasn’t so sure she was right.
It put Marcy in the awkward position of either agreeing with Cara or arguing that she really was crazy. I could see that Marcy was weighing the pros and cons and, in the moment, I realized that Cara might have a point. If Marcy had really been insane, she probably would have just attacked Cara when confronted rather than make a reasoned decision.
“I don’t know what business this is of yours,” Marcy came back with, but she sounded less sure of herself than before.
“Simple. I’m his girlfriend. You’re… apparently an old friend of his. He’s trying to help you, so I’m trying to help him help you.”
“I don’t need you people’s help. I just need that damn book!” Marcy was back at full volume.
“And you aren’t getting the book until you answer a few of my questions,” I put in.
“Screw it!” Marcy flung up her hands and then threw herself down into one of the dining room chairs.
I carefully sat down in the chair next to her while Cara sat across the table from us.
“I don’t want her here,” Marcy blurted out.
Cara didn’t move. “Why? So you can try to manipulate Larry without someone who sees through you watching? The difference between you and me is that I don’t think Larry’s an idiot, and you do.”
Marcy clearly wasn’t as good with women as she was with men. I don’t think she’d spent much time around the female of the species. She glared at Cara, but kept her mouth shut for a change.
“How do you know Joel?” I forged ahead. Slowly Marcy took her eyes off of Cara and looked at me.
“I met him down in South Beach.”
“You were working there?” I asked very gently.
“Yeah, I was bartending. Made a lot of money in tips too,” she said defiantly.
“When did you meet him?”
“I don’t know. Last fall. He likes to be the big man on the beach,” she said, then added, “but he throws money around when he’s got it. So that’s cool.” Marcy slumped down in the chair, which I took as a good sign. She was relaxing.
“Did you come up here with him?”
“Nah, he followed me,” she said.
“Why did he follow you?” I asked.
“Not what you think.” Marcy sat back up. “He wasn’t fu… having sex with me or anything. He doesn’t have that much money.”
I had to keep from smiling at that last comment. What was really funny was that Marcy didn’t understand how it made her look. Some people…
“So why do you think he came up here?�
�
She sighed and looked uncomfortable. “Just because.”
“Is it because of the gold?”
The minute I mentioned the gold she sat bolt upright in her chair and her eyes went wide while her mouth dropped open. “I knew it!” she said. “Give me that book.”
She reached over, trying to grab the copy of Treasure Island. I’d placed the book toward the other end of the table. I put my hand on it.
“I’m not after the gold. I don’t even believe it exists,” I told her, putting her in a quandary. She wanted to argue with me, but she really didn’t want me to believe that it existed.
“Well, that’s your opinion. I don’t even know how you know about the treasure.” More pouting.
“Marcy, the story of Nazi gold has been in the local paper for decades. Everybody knows about it,” I reasoned.
“Yeah, but not that I’m looking for it.” She looked away as though even she was a little embarrassed that she believed in the legend.
“What made you decide to leave your job down south and come up here looking for the gold?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.
“I’m not telling you nothin’ about the gold.” Her teeth clenched and her eyes narrowed to slits. “I came up here because my daddy is dying.” Something about the way she said that had a ring of truth to it.
“When did Joel come up here?”
“Don’t know.” She still had her teeth clenched, afraid I was trying to trick her into revealing the secrets of the Nazi gold.
“I’m investigating two murders. I don’t care about gold. I’m going to level with you. Joel is a serious suspect in my investigations. When did you first learn that he was up here?”
“Guess about two weeks ago,” Marcy said, which put him up here in plenty of time to be the murderer or an accomplice.
“You sort of let on that he came here for the gold. How did he hear about it?”
She stared at me, no doubt trying to decide if she would give anything away by telling me the truth. “I might have said something to him,” she finally admitted, frowning.
“You mentioned the fact that you had a lead on the gold and that’s why he came to Adams County?”
“I didn’t say nothin’ about a lead.”
“Right now to me or to him?” I asked and the question seemed to confuse her.