“Yes, Jessie,” Marie said and shut the door behind her.
“Do everything for ‘em and they still treat me like crap,” Jessie muttered and opened the desk drawer again.
Dusk came and Jessie decided he needed something stronger than the cocaine, so he reached into his hiding place and laid out two long lines of his special mixture. He left the little snuff box he kept it in sitting on the table. He wasn’t finished.
He was used to Marie going to the mailbox and bringing in the afternoon Atlanta Journal and local paper, the Benson Times, and it was dark before he realized that there was likely to be more recent news of Caroline’s rescue and the death of three men. He cracked his door open and looked on the end table where she usually laid the papers, but it was bare.
He bellowed her name three times and, when she still didn’t answer, he stumbled down the drive and retrieved the newspapers himself.
The newspapers lay on his desk while he fortified himself with a straight shot of tequila and fixed another glass of Crown Royal. No matter what the paper reported, he knew he wouldn’t like it. It was just a matter of how bad.
He opened the Benson Times first, and, below the headline, the first caption read “Local Man Outduels Professional Killer.” Jessie’s first thought was that the story was about Bernard, but then he saw Danny’s name.
The glass shattered against the wall. “That damn boy. That damn boy,” Jessie ranted until his curses became incoherent with rage.
A Benson Times reporter had made the trip to Canaveral Beach and put the story together from police statements and interviews with local reporters, who had contacts within the police department.
Jessie had his hand on the doorknob when he hesitated and managed to stop himself from raging upstairs and confronting Caroline. He turned around and pulled the cork from the Patron tequila and took a long slug then flopped back into his chair.
The money he’d collected to pay Lenny was in a briefcase behind his liquor cabinet. “A quarter million. Damn it. If it takes going to New York, then that’s just what it’s going to take, but that little bastard . . . ugggg,” Jessie snarled.
“I gotta calm down and do this the right way. Too many eyes on me,” he said and opened the drawer again.
His room was dark except for the 40-watt table lamp, and he sat in his chair drinking and alternating between the cocaine and his special mixture till long past dark. He’d heard no more from Marie and nothing from Caroline. Then he felt more than heard his door open and anticipated seeing a contrite Caroline’s face peeping around the corner.
The door shut softly and Jessie heard breathing.
“Come on in, baby. I’m not gonna yell at you.”
A lanky body glided into view with an ivory-handled pistol pointed straight at his head. Jessie dropped the glass tube he used to snort the cocaine.
“So Sweet Cheeks made it home? What’s wrong, Daddy Badass, she wasn’t all warm and grateful like you expected?”
Jessie recovered from his shock. “You son of a bitch. Come into my house—”
Slink slammed the heavy pistol butt down on Jessie’s scalp. “Shut the fuck up. I’m doin’ the talkin’ here. You killed two of my pards. You owe me, buddy.”
Jessie shook his head and squinted through the pain and dizziness trying to identify the man in front of him. “Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t you read the papers?”
“You don’t look like any of the kidnappers.”
“A little dye job and a few accessories. What you need to get through that rich head of yours is that I’m the badass, not you. You’re nothin’ but a wannna be who pays folks like me to do what you don’t have the balls for. You feelin’ me?”
A stunned Jessie stared into Slink’s eyes. They reminded him of Lenny’s, except they weren’t lifeless. They were cold. Cold and angry.
Slink tapped the top of Jessie’s head with the pistol barrel. “If you can’t talk, nod.”
“Why are you here?” Jessie stuttered while rubbing his scalp to see whether it was bleeding. It was.
“I want the dough you were going to pay your hit man.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t hire any—”
Slink jammed the .45 into Jessie’s chest. “Now you listen to me, asshole. Your boy went to kill the kid, but something happened. Then he figured you’d pay a lot more if he were to get your daughter back for you, so he followed the bread crumbs to my uncle’s house and almost killed the old fart trying to find out where the kid had gone. I would kill you outright just for that, but, frankly, that church money is gone and with all these folks on my trail I need big dough. And you are going to give it to me. Right now. We’re gonna play a little game called “with or without.” You want to be on the “with” side. You gettin where I’m comin from?”
Jessie eyes went blank. Was this guy crazy or—”
“I see you’re a little slow. Must be that white powder you been stickin up your nose. It works like this. “With” means I leave with the money and you get to stay here with your life. “Without” means I leave without the money and you stay here without your life. Making sense to you now?”
Jessie nodded ever so slightly.
Slink snatched a pillow off an armchair, put it against Jessie’s head and cocked the .45. “Decide.”
Jessie threw up his hands. “Okay. Okay. But I don’t have it here. You’ll have to wait—”
“Bullshit. You got it here. If your boy had done his job, you’d be payin’ him off right about now. Last chance fat man.”
Jessie quivered and sweat covered his face as greed fought against self-preservation. The visceral part of his brain knew this man was serious. And he wasn’t stupid; he’d figured it all out.
“I’ll get it for you under one condition.”
“No conditions. You killed my pards and tried to kill my uncle.”
“I had nothing to do with that. I just wanted the boy dead. The rest was on . . . well you know who it was on. I still want the boy dead.”
“That’s your condition?”
Jessie nodded.
Slink’s black eyes glinted. “I figure you were paying the dude about two hundred thousand: fifty for the boy and a hundred for getting Sweet Cheeks back alive, then another fifty for doing us.”
Jessie couldn’t hide the surprise in his eyes. “Something like that.”
Slink chuckled. “I was thinking of doing him anyway. He’s the reason it all went south.”
“Behind the cabinet,” Jessie heard himself say, his eyes shifting to the liquor cabinet.
“You get it. Better be money in your hand and not a pistola when you pull it out.”
Jessie’s hands shook badly as he reached behind the cabinet, fervently wishing he’d had the foresight to split up the money instead of keeping it all in one place.
Slink stood over him with the cocked pistol against his neck. “Easy does it, fat man.”
They backed up together and Jessie laid the case on the desk.
“Open it, jerkoff.”
Slink’s eyes widened when he saw the bundles of twenty, fifty, and hundred dollar bills that filled the briefcase. “That’ll do.”
“Wait a minute,” Jessie said. “I had some of my money in there too. There’s fifty thousand of my—”
Slink snapped the lid shut and grinned. “You can always get more.”
“How do I know you’ll do what you say?”
Slink’s grin grew wider. “Why, you have my word. Might take a few days though. Too much heat right now.”
44
Diary
Danny tried to sleep after his and Belinda’s talk, but too much was on his mind. He dressed and walked through the kitchen. “I can’t sleep, Mom. I’m gonna visit Bernard.”
He tapped on Bernard’s back door and heard the familiar “Come on in, bud.”
“Ain’t as bad as it looks. Close yore mouth and give your ole bud a hug. If you ain’t too pissed off at me, that is.�
�
Danny smiled and hugged the whiskery face. “What happened?”
“You got out of here just in time is what happened. That fool Jessie Whitaker hired a guy to kill you and, when he couldn’t find you, he saw my light on and came here. Tried to make me tell him where you were. I fooled his ass good though,” Bernard said then erupted in laughter.
“Fooled him how?”
“They’s two thangs that’ll set most men off, which you should know, but I know you ain’t studied on it none, so I got to tell you everything. Slappin’ a man in the face or spittin’ on him will make most men go nuts. Know what I mean?”
Danny nodded.
“So the dude had that gun pointed at my head and I just spit a big wad right dead in his kisser and then I rolled over as soon as I saw his eyes go crazy. He pulled the trigger just like I thought. Hahahaha.”
“I don’t get why that’s so funny.”
“Oh, come on, kid. I told you this ain’t nothin’. Bullet hit the metal plate in my head and bounced off. Just a .22. Waren’t nothin’ at all.”
“I’m so sorry, Bernard. I didn’t mean to cause everyone so much trouble.”
“Stop that. You done a man’s job. Good sight better than the rest of these fools. Dang FBI, GBI, and all them other pricks couldn’t find yore gal, but you did, now didn’t you?”
“Yeah, with your help.”
“Yeah, well that’s how the button man found you too. With my help. Sorry as I am to say it. He found some of the maps and things I’d left on the table and followed you down there. That’s how come I feel responsible for some of what took place. Should’ve put that stuff up just as soon as we got done with it. ‘Fore I forget, how ‘bout lookin’ on my nightstand and bringing me that book what’s on top of it.”
Danny found a cloth-bound binder and brought it to Bernard.
“This here’s my journal, diary, or whatever you want to call it. VA shrinks been tellin’ me it’s good to write down important stuff, so I took his word. What you think about that? Think they know what they’re talking about?”
“I don’t know, Bernard. Couldn’t hurt I don’t guess. Have you been having some bad spells?”
Bernard scratched his whiskery cheek and made a wry face. “Some. I guess you’d call ‘em spells. Just been losing track of thangs. Thinking I was back in the Nam. Didn’t do anything crazy though. Just kinda blanked out. Might be from that blow to my head.”
“You’re taking your medicine aren’t you?”
“Yep, regular as can be. Time for it now. You feel like gettin’ it for me?”
“Sure. Which ones?”
“Them two bottles on the nightstand. One of each.”
Danny shook the capsules out and brought them to Bernard along with a glass of water.
“Thanks, bud.”
“I’d better get going. I’ll bring your car over later. I couldn’t sleep till I found out how bad you were shot. I’ll see you later and bring the guns back too.”
Bernard’s eyes twinkled. “All of ‘em?”
“No, the Florida cops kept the derringer,” Danny said with a shy smile. “I told them I swiped it off the end table when I was inside the beach house. That way I wouldn’t get me or you in trouble. And Slink had already taken the blackjack. The other pistol and shotgun are still in the car where I hid them.”
“Yeah, I read the papers and know you did quite a job getting outta that mess. I wanna hear all the details after you rest up.”
“I was lucky, Bernard.”
“No, it waren’t luck, bud. Luck is when lightning hits the tree and not you. When the chance came, you acted. Waren’t no luck in that.”
Danny reached the kitchen then turned around. With a glum face, he asked, “I’m wondering whether Mr. Whitaker’s going to get away with all he did?”
“Hell, yes, he’s gonna git away with it. He’s rich, ain’t he? Rich men do as they damn well please.”
Danny plopped back down. “That’s not right. Plus, Caroline knows he sent that man after me. She doesn’t want to live with him but can’t figure out where else to go.”
“Love her, don’t you, bud?”
“Seems like I’ve loved her all my life, Bernard.”
“How’s she feel about it?”
“Oh, she’s always cared for me too. But more like a brother. Here lately though, I think she’s seeing me in a different light. If it weren’t for this damn lip, she—”
“There you go with that lip again. I’m tellin’ you it ain’t no big deal to those who know you. And, hell, it’s ‘bout time you did something about it anyway. You know they can fix thangs like that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but it costs a lot of money. A lot of money.”
Bernard wheeled himself over and patted Danny’s leg. “Don’t you worry no more about it, sport. Thangs have a way of working out for the best.”
“You sound just like my mother.”
“Course I do. She’s a smart lady.”
45
Funeral
Martin’s mother tied her husband’s tie as she had done since they were married, except today was the first and only time her hands trembled.
Her husband, MJ, stroked her back. “I believe this is the worst day of our lives together.”
“Let’s just try to get through it, MJ,” Delores replied. “We’d better get a move on. It’s nine o’clock now.”
Reverend Holcomb was, as they say, preaching the funeral, which would be held at their church since a huge crowd was expected.
The funeral home had sent a limousine and, when Delores peeked outside, it was waiting at the front door of the oversized mansion. Built just outside of town during the boom of the textile trade, the stately residence was only a short 10-minute drive from the church.
Reverend Holcomb met them on the church’s front steps amid the Roman-style columns and escorted the dignified couple to the front pew, directly in front of the open coffin. He stood aside as he indicated their seats with an open hand, but Delores smiled and walked to the coffin, MJ steadying her with an arm around her waist.
Delores took off a white glove and touched her fingers to her lips and then to Martin’s. Her eyes glistened then tears ran down her cheeks. “I’ll miss you, sweet boy,” she whispered.
She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see her oldest and closest friend Gwen Hathaway and her husband Stuart, who had visited twice since Martin’s death and helped with the funeral arrangements.
Gwen and Delores simply exchanged knowing smiles because all that could be said had already been said. The two men shook hands then the Hathaways went to their seats directly behind Delores and MJ.
Martin’s wife, Angela, and their daughters arrived and sat beside Delores. As Angela stared at the coffin, she remembered the time Martin gathered his and Belinda’s parents together shortly after the episode at the church when Jessie demanded that Danny leave. He’d told them all the facts about his and Belinda’s relationship and the reasons why everything occurred the way it did. He’d ended it by saying that, since Robert was dead, he felt it was not only his obligation but his desire to fully acknowledge Danny as his son, depending on how Danny felt about it, and, if anyone there had anything to say, now was the time.
His parents had been fully supportive, but Belinda’s father merely nodded gravely and looked at his wife, Gwen. Her pursed lips gave no indication of approval, as Martin had expected. He hoped for better but wasn’t overly upset about it one way or the other. Gwen Hathaway was a stubborn woman.
A pianist played while mourners filed in and the church began to fill up. Ushers stood at all entrances to guide latecomers to empty seats or help the elderly or handicapped.
Belinda and Danny arrived and sat in the left section a few rows from the front.
Holcomb sat in his customary chair on the dais and saw them walk in. He waited till they were seated then walked over to offer his condolences.
Leaving the dais was highly irregular dur
ing a funeral except for that reason or to correct some difficulty, so MJ’s head turned to see the reason for Holcomb’s action.
After seeing Belinda and Danny, MJ faced the front again then leaned to Delores. “Belinda and her son are over there. Shouldn’t they be sitting with us?”
“The most appropriate thing would be for them to sit with Gwen and Stewart, all things considered, but I know what Martin would want. Don’t you?”
MJ knew what that meant. He stood and, with most every eye in the church on him, walked to the pew where Belinda and Danny sat and leaned close to Belinda. Loud enough for Danny to hear, he whispered “Delores and I think you should be sitting with the family. Come on.” He held out a hand to help her up, looked her in the eye and winked.
Belinda couldn’t resist smiling. “Come on, Danny. He’s your father too.”
Danny fought down his normal embarrassment caused by his lip and took his mother’s hand.
As soon as MJ stood up, Gwen Hathaway realized what was happening. She leaned over the back of the pew and whispered in Delores’ ear. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Delores bit her lip to hold her voice down. She turned sideways to look Gwen in the eye. “You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that to me with my son lying dead in that coffin. Your child still alive and right here and you keep up this petty nonsense. You should be ashamed and beg her forgiveness. You heard what Martin said. You are a fool, Gwen Hathaway.”
“Hmmph. I guess I know where you stand,” Gwen replied.
“I guess you do. Now tell your daughter to come back there and sit with you.”
“Do what she says,” Stuart said. “If you don’t, I will.”
Gwen leaned back, her lips set in a straight line.
MJ saw the exchange as he led Belinda and Danny to the front. He looked at Delores for guidance on where she wanted him to seat Belinda and she motioned with her eyes for Belinda to sit between her and MJ.
MJ guided Belinda down and whispered to Danny, “Sit next to me, son,” and Danny sat on MJ’s left.
Stewart leaned forward and whispered to Belinda. “You’re welcome to come back here with us, dear.”
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