Done Rubbed Out: Reightman & Bailey Book One

by Jeffery Craig

  Plonk.

  Toby sat very quietly, holding his pebbles tightly in his hand, afraid to move or look up at his friend.

  ”I fought him, Toby – I did! I got a couple of good licks in, but he was a lot bigger and stronger – he smelled like cheap beer and dirty sweat.” Toby looked up at him, but still didn’t say a word. Geri was crying, and the tears running down his face broke Toby’s heart. “I’ll never let anyone have power over me again, Toby. I’ll be bigger and stronger and meaner and smarter than they are. I’ll be prepared for bad things.” Geri brushed his eyes with a trembling angry hand. “I’ll never go back to Florida again.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Toby threw his handful of rocks and a dozen pebbles hit the water one at a time.

  Geri stood up and looked down to where Toby sat. “I was afraid you wouldn’t–” his voice broke, “wouldn’t want to be around me anymore. You can do better.”

  Toby stood up and faced him. “Maybe I can – maybe I can’t. I don’t know anything except I don’t want to do any better right now. Not unless you decide you don’t want me as your friend and maybe… maybe more one of these days.” He held Geri’s eyes steady with his pale blue ones, and Geri finally smiled.

  Toby reached out his hand for another pebble, and after a minute, Geri gave him one. Now, they each held a single pebble in their hands. They turned and flung their final stones into the water, watching as they hit the pond’s surface and broke the sky’s reflection into a million shimmering pieces. The ripples merged and soon Toby couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended.

  “Let’s go home Geri.” Toby said and…

  …the dream changed again.

  They were all seated at the big kitchen table: he and Geri and Grams.

  “…and I’m telling you, Toby H. Bailey, you’re not going off to some fly-by-night massage school in Lord-knows-where, and that’s final!”

  “But, Grams, you know that’s what I want to do. If I’m going to open a fancy spa one day, I need to learn.” He’d finally shared his dream with the two of them, shyly bringing out the notebook where he had taped and pasted in the pictures and articles of high-end resorts and spas that he’d cut out and collected for years. He’d carefully explained to both of them what he was thinking. He hadn’t expected her reaction.

  “There’s more than one way to do most things, Toby.” She got up and went to her sink. “Let me think on it a minute.” She started drying and putting away the few dishes that were sitting in the drainer. Toby and Geri sat at the table looking down at the open notebook.

  After she finished up she dried her hands on a towel and turned around. “I really want you to get an education. I want you to go to a real school.” As he started to repeat his argument that college wasn’t for him, she held up a hand. “Let me finish.” She poured a cup of coffee from the pot and joined them at the table, sighing as she sat down. “I know you say that you don’t want to go to a four year school, and that’s fine if it’s what you really mean. But how can you know until you’ve tried it?” When she got no response from her grandson, she tried a different approach. “I think the best thing would be to start with a two-year school. You can get a good grounding in the basics and take some business courses, which you’ll need if this,” she tapped her closed fist on the notebook, “is what you really want to do. You can take your massage classes at the same time, as long as you keep your grades up.”

  “I rather stay here than go away to some college.”

  “You can’t stay here, Toby.”

  He looked up at her, shocked. “But, Grams–!”

  “Toby Bailey,” she reached for his hand and held it tight. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved a single person, other than your grandfather. You know that, don’t you?” She waited until he gave her a small nod, then released his hand, and brushed the hair back from his eyes “But now, it’s time for you to go and discover that there’s more to the world than this tiny little town can offer. This place will always be here,” she said, indicating the kitchen and by association, the house, “when you need it, and so will I for as long as the Lord is willing. But, Toby, you have to go.”

  “It’ll be too expensive, Grams.”

  She laughed, then got up and left the room. She came back a short time later with a little oblong booklet that he recognized as coming from the local bank. She handed it to him. “This account is in both our names, Toby. It’s the money from your momma’s insurance and what we got from selling the house you both lived in. Open it.”

  Toby pulled open the cover and flipped a couple of pages. He looked up at her with his eyes wide and his mouth open. “But Grams, this is a lot of money.”

  “No, Toby. In today’s world it isn’t a lot of money, but it will be more than enough to get you started on chasing your dream. That’s what it’s meant to be used for.” He looked down at the account book, trying to take it in all in.

  “Toby?” she asked and waited until he looked up. “Tomorrow you and I are going down to the bank and you’re going to open an account– separate from the savings account you have had for the last few years. I’m not going to put all of this in it right now – just enough to get things started and give you a little independence. After that, we’ll decide what to do together.”

  “Okay, Grams.” He was still a little shell shocked.

  Geri looked up from staring at the vinyl table covering. “You have to go Toby. It’s important. Don’t worry – I’ll still be waiting here for whenever you come back on breaks and over the summer.”

  “No, you won’t,” Grams corrected him.

  “What?” Geri tried to swallow his fear. He was afraid he would no longer be welcome here with Toby away at school.

  “You won’t be here, Geri. You’ll be wherever Toby decides to head.”

  “But I can’t! There’s no way I could –”

  “You can and you will, Geri Guzman. It doesn’t cost much more to educate two instead of one if they live together someplace inexpensive, and,” she tapped the bankbook, “there is plenty of resource to do it. I think my grandson would agree.” When Toby grinned and nodded across the table in acknowledgement she nodded in approval. “That’s what I thought.”

  “But…” Geri started to protest again.

  “Just shut your mouth for a minute, Geraldo H. Guzman!” Grams held up one of her hands until she was sure he was going to let her have her way without further argument. “It’s settled.” She rose from the table and gave a tired sigh. “I’m worn out and am going to bed. I expect you two to do a little research and pick a couple of places to at least look over by morning. Summer is almost over, and you’ve both wasted enough time.” She kissed them both on the top of their messy heads. “Good night.”

  Toby and Geri looked at each other across the table. Geri spoke first. “Toby, are you sure about all of this?”

  “Yep.”

  “I feel funny, Toby, about using your money, and everything.”

  “Don’t be a dumb ass, Geri! I didn’t even know I had any money until about ten minutes ago. Besides, I really want you to come with me, wherever we decide to go to school.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I am.”

  “Okay then.” Geri stood. “I think I’ll go on back to my cousin’s. It’s getting late and I’ve got some things to think about.” He headed toward the outside door and stood looking out the screen. “Toby?”

  “Yeah, Geri?”

  “I won’t let you down – I promise. I’ll pull my weight and contribute my fair share. I don’t know how, but I will, and I’ll keep doing it however I can. That’s the only way I can come with you, and stay with you. You understand?”

  “Yes. I think you’re being silly, but I think I can understand.”

  “Good.” He thought of something and turned around and asked “Toby, what does the ‘H” stand for?

  Toby concentrated for a minute then grinned a big grin. “The ’H’ stands for �
��hellion’ Geri. I think Grams just decided you needed a middle name. It’s the same one she gave me.”

  Geri pushed open the screen door and went out into the night.

  Toby set at the big table flipping through the notebook in the quiet kitchen. “H” also stands for home, Geri,” he said. As he listened to the June bugs fight to find the light through the window, he thought about the possible future. “H” stands for home,” he said again, softly and…

  …woke up.

  ♦♦♦

  Melba and Sam headed downtown, with Sam insisting he be the one to drive. Melba occasionally mimed holding tight to the handle above her window while placing a hand over her heart. Sam didn’t find it very funny. About halfway to their destination Melba’s phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and answered, “Detective Reightman.”

  “Hey, Melba, sorry I didn’t call you earlier.” Melba could hear Nancy chewing her gum. “Chief’s pretty booked and all, but he has a minute now if you want to talk with him.”

  “Sure, Nancy, Jackson and I are just on our way down to Capital Street.”

  “Great – I’ll put him through,” she popped the gum. “Hold on a sec.” Reightman listened to the department’s version of hold music, while Nancy connected Kelly.

  ‘‘Reightman, you there?’ the Chief’s voice interrupted the painful Muzak rendition of a popular eighties hit.

  “Yes, Chief. Thanks for finding a minute to talk. Nancy said you were pretty busy today.”

  “Busy as hell. I’ve been ass deep working with the city planners on the damned Labor Day festivities. I snatched a minute while the assistant to the assistant city manager takes a bio break.

  “I totally forgot this was Labor Day weekend.”

  “It snuck up on me too. Don’t forget we’re all on call. The city planners are anticipating record numbers out on the streets and we’ve got that danged parade to cover. Why anyone thinks it’s a good idea to have the high school bands marching in those heavy uniforms in August is beyond me. The powers that be have requested every available officer to be on standby.”

  “Great! There goes the weekend. Abby and the kids were planning to come down for a visit,” she said with disappointment. She’d been looking forward to seeing her grandkids.

  “Sorry, Reightman. You’d better give Abby the head’s up. Now, what’s the reason you requested this cozy little chat?”

  “I just wanted to give you an update on where we are with the Guzman murder, Chief.” She filled him in on the case and outlined their plan for the day. She mentioned the phone she’d dropped off with Tom Anderson, and her hope that Lieberman would soon be finished with the autopsy.

  “He better be finished soon! He needs to get the lard out of his ass. Anything else, Reightman?”

  “No, sir, I think that’s all.”

  “Good, because Nancy’s signaling through the door that the city flunky is headed back this way. Later.”

  “Later, sir.” Reightman stuffed the phone back into the bag while Jackson parked the car in front of one of the buildings on the block. “That sucks! I forgot about this being Labor Day weekend. I was looking forward to seeing the girls.”

  “Well, you know what they say.”

  “What do they say, Sam?”

  “They say ‘them’s the breaks’ in this glamourous, highly paid and vastly envied profession.”

  They cracked the windows, got out of the sedan and headed to the first business on their list. They entered the empty bookstore and looked around, hoping to spot someone. “Hello?” Reightman called out. “Anyone here?”

  “Just a second,” a high reedy voice answered, before the door leading into the back of the shop opened. A middle-aged man carrying a dusty box of books met them in the middle of the store. “Sorry about that. I’m trying to restock this morning. Monday’s are usually slow and I try to get as much done as possible.” He sat the box on the counter and brushed some dust off of his hands. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m Detective Jackson and this is Detective Reightman.” Both showed him their badges. “We’re hoping to ask you a few questions. Would now be a convenient time?” Jackson’s tone clearly indicated that an affirmative response would be the only correct answer.

  “Sure, Detectives. Like I said, Monday mornings are pretty slow, so I’ll have plenty of time to finish the restocking later. I’ll probably be glad of the delay once the afternoon rolls around and I’m searching for something to keep myself busy.” He tugged on the long faded red beard that was a shade or two darker than his graying hair. “Can I ask what this is about?”

  “Certainly Mr.…?’

  “I’m Herman the Red, the owner of this place,” he gestured expansively with his thin arms to indicate the glory of their surroundings.

  “Herman the Red?” asked Jackson, writing notes on the small pad he carried. “Did I hear you correctly?”

  Herman looked a little sheepish. “Well, my real name is Herman Jones, but I go by Herman the Red. It seemed to fit the ambiance of the place better.” At their questioning looks he shrugged. “The name of this store is “The Colors of Life” and I thought a name with a …well, with an actual color in it would be better, from a PR standpoint and all. Plus, it goes with the beard.” He tugged again then looked at the detectives expectantly. “Get it?”

  Jackson was looking a little nonplussed, so Reightman stepped in. “Mr. Red, we wanted to ask a few questions related to the recent murder of Mr. Geraldo Guzman. We’re canvasing the street and checking with all of the businesses to see if anyone heard or saw anything unusual that night.”

  “Yes, I heard the unfortunate news of Geri’s death. It’s a tragedy a young life was ended so suddenly and in such a violent way.” Herman inclined his head and pressed his palms together, apparently giving Guzman’s memory a moment of respectful silence. “I was worried the last time I saw him.”

  “When was that Mr.…Red?” Jackson held his pencil at ready.

  The proprietor gently stroked his beard and closed one slightly rheumy eye. “It must have been last Tuesday. I was sweeping the front sidewalk to banish negative energy from the entrance and I saw him crossing the street. I always dispel negativity by sweeping on Tuesday afternoons.”

  Before Jackson could make any sort of comment which might add to the aforementioned negativity, Reightman asked, “Why were you worried?”

  “Because of his aura.”

  “His aura?”

  “Yes. His colors were quite muddied. A muddy aura usually signals a soul in turmoil, or one about to face great unpleasantness.’’ Reightman kept her face totally still, making an effort not to show any expression. She saw Jackson give a quick roll of his eyes. Herman the Red noticed. “You may scoff if you like, but I’m very well-known for my aura reading skills. I’m never wrong about the impressions I receive from the guardians of the plane.”

  Reightman intervened hastily, “Please excuse my partner, Mr. Red. We’re not used to this sort of thing. Speaking for both of us, I’m sure you’re the best of your kind around.” She waited for Mr. Red to accept her apology, and after he thought it over , he grudgingly acquiesced. “Sir, did anything else strike you as unusual?”

  Herman the Red shook his head, causing the beard to wobble its way across his thin chest. “No, Detective, I can’t. After I saw his disturbed color halo, I stopped my sweeping and came inside to offer a small plea of intercession for him. I’m afraid it took me some time to appropriate the spirits, and when I came back outside there was no one else around.”

  Jackson carefully replaced the notebook and pencil in his breast pocket. He didn’t meet her eye.

  “Well, thank you for your help.” She handed him her card. “My number is on the card. If you think of anything else I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call.”

  “Certainly.” He picked up the box of books and headed toward the shelves. As they made their way to the door he called out, “Detectives?”

  “Ye
s, Mr. Red?”

  “Can I interest either of you in a healing crystal?” he held out a bowl filled with sparkling purple, pointy-ended stones. “I have a very nice selection and they’re half price today. Or, perhaps, an energy pyramid?”

  Jackson inched closer to the door. Reightman smiled and replied for both of them, “It’s very nice of you to offer, but I don’t think we are in the market for either today.” She wondered if all of the shop owners on Capital Street were such odd ducks as those she’d already met. She exited the bookstore as Jackson held the door. He didn’t say a single word about their interview with Herman the Red, although he did pull out his handkerchief and wipe his brow.

  Once outside, they headed down the sidewalk. Toby Bailey was crossing the street to meet them. He carefully looked both ways then broke into a jog. He was wearing only a pair of short nylon shorts and a pair of running shoes and was holding a sports bottle.

  “Hey, Detectives,” he greeted them and took a drink.

  “Good morning Mr. Bailey. You look like you’ve worked up quite a sweat,” answered Reightman, shielding her eyes from the glare, and noticing the sunlight glinting off the fine line of hair that travel downward from his navel. She quickly looked away, embarrassed for some reason. She imagined Zhou Li spying on him from her window and her embarrassment faded. As Zhou said, she wasn’t dead yet.

  “Yeah, I went for a run. I slept later than expected and was groggy when I woke up. I thought a little exercise might do me good and help me settle my mind.”

  “It’s hot out here already,” Jackson commented as he tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket.

  “Sure is,” Toby agreed. “Detective Reightman, when I saw you guys over here I thought I’d check what time you wanted to meet this afternoon. I have a few errands to run and don’t want to keep you waiting.”

  “We still have a couple places to stop by this morning. We’re interviewing all the shop owners on the block to see if any of them have noticed any strange activity over the last couple of weeks. It’ll probably take us a while to finish up, and then Detective Jackson and I need to head back to the office for a while. I have a couple of items to take care of and Detective Jackson needs to pick up his own car, so he can follow up on some other things.” She calculated how much time that might take, and padded her estimate a little to account for a quick lunch. “Why don’t we say three o’clock? That should give us enough time to do everything. Will that be convenient for you?”