Black Beans & Vice

by J. B. Stanley

  At that moment, Ned Woodman emerged from the crowd heading into the Village. He looked as frantic as Roslyn had earlier, but James blocked the councilman’s exit. Pointing at the increasingly hostile throng, he said, “Ned! Can you do something to disperse these people? Don’t the protestors need some sort of a permit? This is going to get out of hand if someone in a position of authority doesn’t act quickly!”

  Ned shot a panicked look over his shoulder. He seemed fearful. Not of the protestors, but of something or someone in the direction of the main tent. Suddenly, James’ attention was drawn by the wail of a sheriff’s cruiser siren. Deputy Keith Donovan pulled his sedan within inches of the demonstrators and jumped out of the car, his face set in a fierce scowl. When James turned to speak to Ned again, he only saw a glimpse of purple shirt as the councilman slipped back toward the heart of the Village.

  Lucy parked her Jeep right behind the surly deputy and though Donovan strutted up to the protestors and began to order them around in his typical mulish manner, Lucy and Lindy were able to gently pull the female leader aside and speak to her calmly and quietly. Donovan, who had become obsessed with weight lifting over the past few months, now had such a thick neck that he looked more like a redheaded bulldog than ever. He had long been Lucy’s nemesis and the supper club members did their best to avoid him whenever possible.

  While Donovan mildly scolded the burger-eating teenagers, James lured Gillian away from the protestors. He captured her attention by telling her about Eliot’s recent conversion to vegetarianism.

  “What an honorable decision to make at such a tender age!” Gillian was delighted. “Where is he? I’d love to congratulate him and offer my full support.”

  Bennett shot James a grateful look as the three friends headed back into the Village and rejoined Jane and Eliot at the picnic table. Bennett and Gillian had barely said their hellos when Eliot tugged on James’ hand. “Daddy! I need to go to the bathroom.”

  James noted that his son was doing little hops from side-to-side. “It was a pretty big smoothie, huh? Come on, we’ll ask Harmony if we can use the restroom in her office. You and I aren’t going near those port-a-potties by the entrance.”

  The Better State of Mind booth was unmanned, but Roslyn was more than happy to lend James the keys to her office. James and Eliot trotted to her blue door, but didn’t need the keys as the door was not only unlocked, but left slightly ajar.

  “Hello?” James called out, but the office was silent. “I guess Roslyn really is absentminded.”

  He gave a quick glance around a reception area similar to Harmony’s. Judging by the number of closed doors off the hallway, Roslyn’s office unit contained a few more rooms than the hypnotherapist’s. Luckily, the restroom was clearly marked. James quickly opened the door and turned the lights on for his son.

  “I can go by myself,” Eliot stated. Despite his son’s declaration, James listened at the door as Eliot conducted his business and then washed his hands. When he didn’t come back out after turning off the water, James opened the door by an inch.

  “All done in there?”

  Eliot reappeared, wearing a befuddled frown. “Daddy? Why is that man sleeping on the ground?”

  “What?” James frowned and entered the bathroom.

  There on the floor of the handicapped stall was a man’s body. James recognized the figure in the purple polo shirt and tan pants right away.

  “Ned?” he called out and stooped over the prone form. Even in the shadowy restroom stall, James could see that Ned Woodman’s eyes were open. They were glassy and unblinking, their still gaze fixed on the peach and green tiled wall.

  James checked for a pulse but didn’t find one. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he ushered Eliot into the reception room and began dialing Lucy’s number. He wondered if she’d hear the phone over the noise of the crowd. When she didn’t answer, he punchedin Bennett’s number next.

  “Bennett!” James whispered urgently into the speaker. “Tell Jane to come get Eliot from the Health House. It’s two doors down from Harmony’s. And call 9-1-1. Councilman Ned Woodman is in a bathroom stall back here.” He lowered his voice even further. “And he’s dead.”

  “Damn,” Bennett whistled. “When it’s my turn to pass on, that is not how I wanna go!”

  It took less than five minutes for Jane to enter the office and collect Eliot. James gave her the Bronco keys and insisted she drive back to his house while he waited for the authorities.

  Those authorities turned out to be Donovan, since he was already at the festival, and Lucy. The two deputies were in the midst of a full-scale argument when they walked across the threshold.

  “You’re not even in uniform, Hanover,” Deputy Donovan sneered and hitched up his utility belt to emphasize her lack of nightstick, handcuffs, or firearm. “Leave this to the men.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “I would if there was one here. All I see is the same know-it-all jerk I knew in high school. When are you ever going to grow up, Keith? Didn’t you just turn forty a few months ago?” She jerked her thumb at his thinning red hair as she brushed past him. “It’s too bad you don’t lose your bad habits the way you seem to be losing your hair.”

  Donovan snorted. “Go on, then. Be your aggressive, sarcastic self. That’s why you can’t hold onto a man, Hanover. Guys don’t like pushy women.”

  The last comment struck home, especially because Lucy’s fellow deputy knew full well that she still mourned her former relationship with James. To spare Lucy any further embarrassment, James avoided meeting her wounded eyes as he led the pair of squabbling deputies to the bathroom.

  “He’s inside,” he said as Lucy opened the door. “I checked for vital signs but found nothing.”

  Donovan shook his head in disgust. “I’m glad that’s not me in there. Would it have killed you to try a little CPR before pronouncing the man dead? Or is M.D. one of your dozens of degrees?”

  “It didn’t take a degree in higher education to see that Ned was gone,” James answered, doing his best not to rise to Donovan’s bait. “He didn’t even feel warm. There was no trace of life left in him.”

  Before Donovan could continue berating James, his radio crackled with the announcement that Sheriff Huckabee was on his way. Donovan snapped to attention and, ignoring James, ducked into the bathroom. He and Lucy reappeared a few minutes later, just as the paramedics walked into the office. They eased a gurney into the reception room and after exchanging professional greetings with the deputies, the pair of young men went into the restroom to examine Ned Woodman’s body.

  Lucy dug a notebook out of her cluttered purse and then began searching for a pen among the gum wrappers, wadded tissues, and crumpled receipts. She finally found one, but it had come uncapped in her bag and had dried out. James smiled at her customary untidiness and handed her a pen from a cup holder on the coffee table. The pens were mauve and bore the name, phone number, and address of Roslyn’s business.

  While Lucy asked James for details regarding his discovery of the body, the EMTs carried Ned out of the handicapped stall and carefully lifted him onto the gurney. Donovan held the bathroom door open for the younger men and then stood behind them, hands on hips, as they strapped the inert form onto their wheeled cart.

  “So what do you boys make of this?” he asked, his voice conversational.

  Without pausing in his work, the man cinching the belt around Ned’s legs replied, “Nothing official, of course, but it looks like your standard heart attack.”

  James listened with interest. He recalled how Ned’s left hand had been balled into a tight fist and how his right arm had been stretched across his chest, as though he had held onto his left side before falling onto the floor.

  “It’s a shame,” the second paramedic murmured. “Guy can’t be more than sixty.”

  “Yeah, it sucks to be him,” Donovan responded without an iota of genuine sympathy.

  The paramedic’s exit was blocked by the arrival of Sheriff Hu
ckabee. Huckabee, who was stocky and wide-shouldered like Donovan, but weighed fifty pounds more than his deputy, strode into the room. Twirling the ends of his splendid mustache, which had turned dark pewter over the years, Huckabee had never looked more like a walrus than he did now. His meaty hand scratched the stubble sprouting on his second chin while his small eyes carefully surveyed the scene. He approached the gurney. “What’s the verdict, gentleman?”

  “Looks like a heart attack, Sheriff,” Donovan answered before anyone else could. “At least it was quick, sir. I know he was a friend of yours.”

  “Thank you, Keith,” the sheriff replied and then placed a palm on the side of the gurney. “Ned was a good man. I’m gonna go over to his place and tell Donna myself.” He turned to the closest paramedic. “Where you boys taking him? I’ll drive his wife over as soon as she’s ready.”

  As the men reviewed the procedural details concerning the care of the councilman’s body, James found that he couldn’t take his eyes off Ned’s face. Less than an hour ago, he’d seen this man walking around the festival. Now he was dead. It happened without warning, without witnesses, and without the presence of a single loved one. James hadn’t known Ned well, but he’d spoken to him minutes before the man had taken his last breath.

  Feeling frail in the face of such a sudden death, James glanced around, wanting to look at something else besides the body on the gurney. Leaning toward Lucy, who was still seated on the sofa, he whispered, “What happened with the protestors?”

  “Relocated,” she responded with a ghost of a smile. “I figured if we tried to shoo them away, they’d call us fascists or something and get even more riled up. I told them they were harassing the folks trying to enter the fair and that they were free to continue with their demonstration, but they’d have to move farther down the street. There’s no shade in that spot and half of them had called it quits before Donovan got the call about Mr. Woodman.”

  The pair fell silent for a few moments and James reflected that he and Lucy had been in this position several times before. There’d been an unexpected death and the two friends had done their best to remain composed despite their feelings of shock or sorrow. Lucy had always handled such situations with professional aplomb, even before she’d become a deputy. James wondered if her ability to detach herself so adeptly prevented her from ever experiencing a genuine romantic relationship.

  Selfishly, James wished she would find a suitable partner. If she could be as happy as he was, he could let go of the guilt he occasionally felt for having had to tell her that they could never be a couple again. James never expected his wish to be granted so quickly, but when Huckabee plodded over to the sofa and indicated that he’d like to speak to Lucy privately, the sheriff did just that.

  As Huckabee and Lucy moved down the hall to talk, James waited to be told he was free to leave. The paramedics wheeled Ned’s corpse from the room and Donovan tagged along, undoubtedly hoping to shout at anyone foolish enough to get too close to the waiting ambulance. In the silence, it dawned on James that he’d neglected to inform Lucy about Roslyn’s office being unlocked. Yet when she returned, her face was filled with such joy that he forgot all about the omitted detail.

  “Good news?” he asked.

  Lucy waited until Huckabee also went outside and then allowed herself a jubilant smile. “Yes! You remember Sullie, right?”

  Naturally James remembered the hunky deputy. He’d been the reason James and Lucy’s relationship had failed the first time around. Lucy had become obsessed with Sullie and had turned her back on James. As a result, James had sought comfort in the arms of the reporter, Murphy Alistair. Thinking about the two women who’d caused him such heartache, James became cross.

  “Who could forget Sullie the Magnificent?” His tone was petulant.

  Too happy to notice James’ peevishness, Lucy went right on talking. “He’s transferring to our station! The sheriff wants me to arrange a welcome party. Oh, isn’t this wonderful news?”

  Recalling that only moments before he’d hoped for this very thing to happen, James nodded and forced his mouth into a smile. “It’s great, Lucy.” He paused and then churlishly asked, “Do you think he’s still single?”

  Lucy was unfazed by the question. “I know he is. I became friends with one of the female deputies in Sullie’s station during the last tri-county department bowling tournament. She said that Sullie talks about me all the time.”

  James rose. He was ready to go home. “I hope everything works out for you, Lucy.”

  “Me too. I feel like it’s finally my turn,” she said and walked out of the office with James.

  I hope Sullie doesn’t want to have a child, because Lucy certainly doesn’t, James thought as he caught a ride home with Bennett to check on his own kid.

  _____

  By the time Monday rolled around, James had recovered from the unsettling experience of Ned Woodman’s death. Fortunately, Eliot continued to believe the man had simply chosen to take a nap on the bathroom floor. His four-year-old brain reasoned that the grown-up must have been really hot and had found relief on the cool tile floor. James and Jane said nothing to correct this notion.

  The workday was refreshingly uneventful. James discarded another pair of thoroughly unpromising job applications, manned both the circulation and information desks as the Fitzgerald twins put on a Dr. Seuss puppet show for a group of kindergartners, and made it through eight hours without a single sugar craving. That afternoon, he nearly hugged Harmony when she invited him into her office for their second session.

  “I’ve lost two pounds!” he boasted happily. “I know that isn’t much, but I feel like this treatment is exactly what I needed!”

  Harmony smiled in encouragement. “Kicking your sugar addiction is a great start, but remember that you still need to eat balanced meals and exercise regularly if you want to be truly healthy.”

  James didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t been to the gym once over the past week so he merely nodded in agreement.

  After gesturing for her client to be seated in the recliner, Harmony took her place on the sofa and gazed at him with friendly concern. “I heard your son discovered Mr. Woodman’s body on Saturday. Is he okay?”

  James wiggled around in the chair until his body weight felt evenly distributed. “Eliot thinks Ned was just resting. He’s forgotten all about it by now.” He opened the folded blanket Harmony handed him and spread it over his legs and belly. “Did you know Ned?”

  “No,” Harmony answered. “Not personally, I mean. I knew that he was a councilman and I’ve seen his wife around the Village. She’s a regular at Knead Your Cares Away. That poor woman. Her husband’s death must have been a terrible shock.”

  Staring at one of the soft watercolors above Harmony’s head, James nodded. “I hope he didn’t die because of stress. The last time I saw him alive, he was standing near the protestors. He looked utterly panic-stricken. I asked him to help keep the crowd calm, but he disappeared as soon as Deputy Donovan showed up.”

  Harmony didn’t seem surprised that Ned dodged what James considered to be his responsibility as a town official. “Not everyone is comfortable handling a volatile situation. The noise, the escalating emotions, the possibility of violence. I’m sure several people were upset by the protest, but I’m still grateful to live in a country where our expressions can be voiced, no matter how disagreeable to some.”

  Wanting to avoid a political discussion, James decided to change the subject. “Tomorrow night is the first meeting of our supper club in which we’re all sugar-free.”

  “Well, let’s make certain you stay that way,” Harmony said. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Very.”

  Harmony turned on her CD player and the tranquil mixture of birdsong, running water, and wind chimes drifted into the room. James closed his eyes. The session was similar to the first one, but instead of visiting his brain’s control room, Harmony asked James to picture the sugary treats he loved
during childhood.

  One at a time, he called the images to mind. Charleston Chews, chocolate chip cookies, ice cream sandwiches, Twinkies, his mother’s homemade doughnuts, and hordes of Halloween candy floated across his vision, and he couldn’t help but grin over the variety of sweets his memory had been able to bring forth. One by one, James laid out the delicacies he’d succumbed to for nearly forty years and then turned his back on the entire display. When he awoke, he felt a sense of freedom, as though he’d reprogrammed his long-term memory and it would no longer have the power to make him believe he wanted to submit to the culinary temptations of his boyhood.

  Once again, James collected his reinforcement CD from Skye and then headed out of the office. Skye’s boyfriend, Lennon, was raking a swath of white pebbles in the Japanese rock garden in between Harmony’s office and her neighbor on the left, the massage therapist. James watched the young man’s steady and deliberate movements and then realized he must be raking in time to music, as a pair of white wires dangled from his ears and disappeared into the neck of another tie-dyed T-shirt.

  James glanced around the tidy garden, the spotless cement walkways, and the carefully trimmed bushes. Bluebirds flitted about the treetops and the sun fell through the leaves, dappling the ground with patterns of light and shadow. The Village was incredibly serene this Monday compared to the boisterous scene on Saturday.

  The feeling of relaxed empowerment fled the moment James returned home and hit the play button on his answering machine.

  “It’s me,” Jane’s voice trembled slightly. “I was really hoping you’d be home. I … I need to know how worried to be about what happened today. Someone left another dead bird at my house, James, but this one wasn’t in the mailbox.” She paused to collect herself. “It was nailed to the front door.”

  James called her back immediately. “Honey, are you okay?” He didn’t notice the use of the endearment; it had rolled off his tongue naturally.