Crow Wing Dead

by Midge Bubany

  “Are we through here? This room smells like sweat and piss.”

  I smiled. “Yes, well most people sweat in this room and a few have pissed their pants.”

  I watched Cheney Martin through the observation window before I entered. He appeared calm, cool, and collected, more so than any person I’d ever seen awaiting interrogation. His body was still, and he stared straight ahead while his jaw worked a wad of gum. He gave his nails a look and picked at one, then resumed his dead-ahead stare. When I entered he glanced up at me. Up close he still didn’t appear particularly nervous. I shook his hand. It was dry. He was cool and collected. He was a trained Navy Seal.

  “Is this the first time you’ve been questioned in a police or sheriff’s department?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Ever been in legal trouble?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You are a Navy seal?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where did you serve?”

  “Mostly the Middle East.”

  “Do you remember the day Michael notified you of his concerns about the North Cross warehouse?”

  He looked at me then off to the left. “He mentioned he thought his stock at the warehouse was on the light side. He asked why, and I told him the factories store product as well, or we can build to order, like the large pumps.”

  “Not what I meant. Did he tell you he thought there was something weird going on with one of the truck drivers at North Cross—Nevada Wynn?”

  “I checked into it. I couldn’t find any proof.”

  “Did you share this information with your boss at the time?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s more of a personnel issue. Plus, Mr. Ames doesn’t want to know about something until it’s proven. I had nothing to tell him.”

  “Do you still believe that’s the case?”

  “Obviously not. I have since apologized to Mr. Ames for not bringing Michael’s concerns to him.”

  Bing! A discrepancy: Ames said he hadn’t known Hawk told Cheney about Wynn. Who was lying? And why? If I put Bobby Lopez in the mix, he could be my eyes and ears while he watched out for Hawk.

  Chapter 28

  My mother was giddy with excitement when she accepted my dinner invitation. On my way home, I’d picked up some steaks and asparagus; mom was bringing the salad and dessert. I cracked a Stella beer and sat on my deck waiting for them to arrive. The moment my mother accepted the invitation, I regretted even considering involving Bobby. And now I was stuck with them for dinner.

  I looked up and noticed Iris Kellogg, my neighbor and divorce attorney, walking around my pool fence and up onto my deck.

  “Thought I should come check to see if you’re crying in your beer,” she said.

  “Why would I be crying in my beer?”

  “Because of the hung jury in the Lewis trial?”

  “What? No.”

  “See what money buys?”

  “Perjury?”

  “That’s what Phillip said. I’m sorry, Cal. I know how much you wanted the guilty verdict. When we heard the news, Phillip had me call Adriana. Needless to say, she was very upset and was worried about you. Seems like you two still harbor feelings for one another.”

  “Would you like a beer? Watch me cry into mine? Or better yet, a glass of wine?”

  “Sure. I’d love a beer—any kind. Not going to answer my question about Adriana, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  I’d placed myself in an awkward situation. If my mom arrived on time, which was rare, I’d feel compelled to invite Iris to dinner as well, and maybe her presence would make it easier to tolerate my mom and Bobby.

  When I returned with a Stella and a dish of Gold Fish crackers, I said, “This was all I could find to snack on.”

  “They’re good. I heard Michael Hawkinson turned up at your place.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Phillip told me. Said it was hush-hush until tomorrow.”

  “How did Phillip find out?”

  “Oliver told him. They gossip like two old women. Anyway, I’m so glad he’s alive and well. I’m curious to hear his story, but that’s not why I came over.”

  I tossed her a sexy smile. “Yeah? So why did you?”

  She smiled back. We both took long pulls of our beer.

  “I came over to ask if you were putting the divorce on hold.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t mean to push, I’m just wondering whether I should proceed or halt.”

  “No, I understand. I’ll let you know ASAP.”

  “Seriously, Cal, there’s no rush. I’ll stop until I hear from you.”

  “Perfect. I think I’m going to have a party Saturday night. Want to come?”

  “Sure.”

  “A let’s-cry-in-our-beer party.”

  “Sounds fun.” She rolled her eyes, and we laughed together. “Can I bring a friend?”

  “Um, sure. The more the merrier. Boyfriend?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “Good.”

  When my mom and Bobby Lopez pulled up in his Cadillac Escalade thirty minutes late, we were into our second Stellas, and I had already invited Iris to join us for dinner. My mother moved on from my romantic relationships with the speed of a comet, so she took one look at Iris and grinned. She didn’t waste time feeling sad with her own romantic losses either, except for Patrick. I believe she still harbors contempt for my father—but he really shit on her. Now grief was a different story for Mom. She wears her grief for my brother Hank, who drowned when he was six; her father, who died when I was sixteen; and my Colby, whom she loved instantly, like a badge of honor.

  Mom took Iris’s hand and held it. “Sooo, how do you two know each other?”

  “We actually met while jogging. We found out we’re neighbors. I live right across the alley.” Iris pointed to her house.

  “Isn’t that convenient?” Mom said.

  I liked how Iris handled that, not mentioning she was my divorce lawyer.

  I had a better time at dinner than I anticipated. Bobby, as it turned out, had quite the sense of humor and made us all laugh, especially the women. When we were finished eating, he pulled me aside to say: “So your missing friend just showed up at your door?”

  “How the hell did you find out?”

  He lifted his scared eyebrow. “I have my sources.” Then he broke into a laugh. “His mother called Hope this afternoon to tell her you were a hero.”

  I grimaced and said, “Hardly. Look, I want to ask you something. Until we catch Nevada Wynn, I’d like to have someone keep an eye on Hawk. I’m not sure about some of the people he’s close to and…”

  “You want me to be his body-guard?”

  “Well… if you do that kind of thing. You’d be paid.”

  “You couldn’t afford me. But… I’d do it for you… for free.”

  “Why?”

  “Because something screwy’s going on there.”

  “What do you know about it? Jesus, how do you know?”

  “Uh-uh… remember? You don’t want to know. So just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Okay, pick me up at home here at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, and we’ll discuss it with him.”

  He grinned. “Okay, but are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me find Nevada Wynn?”

  “What? You could do that?”

  “Sure. Probably. Maybe.”

  “Okay, let’s just stick with the bodyguard deal for now.”

  “You got it. Eight o’clock sharp.” He slapped me on the back. “It meant a great deal to your mother you invited us for dinner. I won’t tell her it was because you wanted
to hire me.”

  Now I was the jerk.

  Iris stuck around until after Bobby and Mom left.

  “Your mom and her boyfriend are interesting people. I love how they reconnected after meeting in California when they were young.”

  “Humph.”

  “What do you think about him moving in with her while they find a house she likes?”

  “They’re going to live together?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “I didn’t hear her say that. Shit. This is so typical of my mother—she doesn’t think through things before she jumps right in headfirst. Why would you move in with someone you’ve only known a couple weeks? Do you know how many men she’s had in her life?”

  “How many?”

  “I’ve lost count.”

  She let out a giggle. “Well, I like her. She’s a free spirit.”

  “Oh, she’s a free spirit all right.”

  “Hey, let me help with your party. What do you need me to do?”

  “I don’t know. I’d never thrown a party by myself. Maybe bring an appetizer?”

  “Sure. Want me to grocery shop for you? I have time. Let’s make a list of what you’ll need.”

  Before she left, we also made a guest list and created an invitation, then I sent it off by email. Within minutes, I had several acceptances.

  “We’re having a party,” I said.

  She gave me a high-five. I really liked this woman—and I think she liked me.

  When she left, I added Clara and Shannon to the list. I emailed Shannon and told her she could bring a guest.

  Later that night as I lay in bed, the two beers and four glasses of wine having lost their effect, I realized what I’d gone and done. “What the hell are you thinking? Having a party? Inviting Shannon and a guest? And asking Bobby Lopez to guard Hawk?” I’ve started talking to myself.

  Chapter 29

  June 6

  Friday morning, Bobby Lopez was ten minutes early. He wore a gray two-toned Charlie Harper shirt, a pair of jeans, and gray athletic shoes.

  As we rolled out of my drive I said, “You going bowling? Because I expected you’d wear a black spook suit—white shirt, black tie, and sunglasses.”

  “Funny man. I’m always incognito, unlike you wearing your uniform.”

  “You carrying? I supposed that’s a silly question.”

  “I have my favorite little .22 in an ankle holster, a Beretta nine mill in the glove box, and a Barrett 98B Centerfire rifle in the back… if we should need it.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re paying me absolutely nothing for?”

  “You want to be paid, you’ll be paid.”

  “I told you the deal. I’m doing this for you.”

  “Not sure why.”

  “Your mother is why. I care about her, and she cares about you and your friend… and don’t ask why I care so much about your mom so early in our relationship because I don’t know, I just do. I need coffee. We have time?”

  “Sure. Northwoods has a drive-through.”

  “And homemade peach scones.”

  “Somehow you don’t seem like a scone guy.”

  “There are many things about me that may come as a surprise to you.”

  “That I believe.”

  The young clerk who handed us over our coffee and bags of scones stared at Bobby with raised brows like he was Jack Nicholson in The Shining. When he handed her a ten-dollar tip, she gave him a toothy smile and thanked him, but her eyebrows were still raised which gave her a comical expression.

  As he drove off, he chuckled. “I love doing that.”

  “What? Scaring young women? You ever gonna get your new eyeball?”

  “I have it. I don’t particularly like wearing it.”

  “And you look scarier without it.”

  “That too. Hey, kid, last night your mom was going to tell you we were moving in together, but she chickened out.”

  “She thought it safer to tell Iris, who told me after you left.”

  “Good then.” He glanced over. “We like your new gal. Your mom said she’d be a good one for you.”

  I let out an audible sigh and shook my head. “She’s not my gal. We’re just friends.”

  Bobby had a smirk on his face.

  “You okay with your mom and me moving in together?”

  “No. You haven’t been together very long, and I don’t know who you are… or what you are, besides secretive.”

  “It’s not me you need to fear.”

  “Oh, okay. Who then?”

  “A man who’s desperate to conceal his actions.”

  “How is that not you?”

  “I’m not desperate.”

  That shut me up for a spell.

  As we sipped our coffee and ate our scones, I listened to Bobby list all the things he liked about my mother: her hippie ways, her choice of music, her carefree attitude, her style, her joy with the simple things in life, her lack of materialism, her easy laughter, blah, blah, blah.

  And some of the things he liked about her drove me absolutely nuts, especially when I was in high school—her hippie persona, for example. Strands of beads in doorways were not only embarrassing, but annoying as hell to walk through; her insistence of driving an old rusty van plastered with political bumper stickers—when she could have afforded a new one; the way she’d put on her sixties music and want my friends to dance with her. Of course they liked it—they were horny teenagers thinking she was Mrs. Robinson. Who knows, maybe she was.

  I had to admit, I’d never seen my mother happier. However, I would be stupid not to be concerned about who Lopez was and what he did for a living. Part of me thought he was just yanking my chain. But if he and my mother were together, I needed to get to know him better.

  He pulled a toothpick from his shirt pocket and put it in his mouth. “She’s told me about your dad and the secrets she’d kept, how guilty she feels about it.”

  “She should. It was wrong.”

  “She thinks you haven’t forgiven her.”

  “I’ve forgiven her, but I won’t ever forget she lied to me my whole life, and this subject is close.”

  “Sure, but just one comment, if I may.” He didn’t wait for me to object. “She was terrified you’d be taken from her by your biological father and mother.”

  “So she said. So, you gonna marry her or just shack up with her?”

  “Now, now. What a negative spin you just put on our relationship.”

  “My grandmother is shacking up and soon my mother will be. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “It’s a changing world.” He looked at me reflectively. “I think change may be difficult for you, Cal Sheehan.”

  “You don’t know me and, therefore, are not qualified to have opinions about me, Cisco.”

  He gave me a smug look and nodded. “Fair enough, and ditto.”

  When he pulled into the Donovan house, he whistled. “Now this is the kind of property I’m talking about. Who owns it?” Bobby said.

  “Sonya Donovan, some radio personality. Must be worth well over a million.”

  “I wonder if she’d sell it.”

  “What? You have that kind of dough?”

  He glanced at me and raised the scarred brow above the eye patch. “No, I’d want her to hand it over to me for free. Of course I have the dough. I sold a house in California and need to reinvest this year so I don’t get socked with capital gains… if you must know the details.”

  “Huh, I thought maybe you just got paid for a hit.”

  “That too.” He laughed.

  “You have fun with me, don’t you?”

  He pulled the toothpick from his
mouth and put it in his pocket. “I do.”

  As Bobby made a visual appraisal of the Donovan house from the great room, I told the Ames family about him being willing to guard Hawk until Wynn was apprehended.

  “Oh… well… that’s… good,” Monica Ames said. She looked to Irving, and he shrugged.

  Irving moved his head from side to side as if contemplating the offer. “I’ve hired a couple security guards to keep watch on the place twenty-four/seven.”

  “Do they have surveillance equipment?” Bobby said.

  My eyes narrowed. We hadn’t spoken about equipment. Probably necessary.

  “Hey, there he is!” shouted Hawk from the top of the stairs. He bounded down the stairs dressed in khaki slacks and a light-blue Polo shirt. Cat followed him, but took the steps slower. He was grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world. Had he taken a mood elevator?

  “This okay to wear? Cat went out and bought me some new clothes at… what’s the name of that store, honey?”

  “Herbergers! Would you believe they had Polo?” Cat said. “Anyway, I told Michael even if we picked up his car, he had nothing suitable to wear. When can we get his Mercedes anyway?”

  “You can pick it up after the news conference today. We should head out, Hawk,” I said.

  No one said a word about my using my nickname for him. I was through pretending he was Michael.

  Hawk leaned over to kiss his wife. She looked up at him and said, “Are you sure I shouldn’t come along?”

  “Absolutely positive, sweetheart,” he said, and kissed her again.

  Irving came to give him a hug. “Good luck, son. I know it’s hard for you to talk about all this again and again, but you’re strong.”

  Monica also hugged him. “This will be all over soon, and you can go home and get back to normal.”

  The thing is—nothing would be normal again. Victims of this kind of trauma often suffered the psychological affect for years.

  Hawk sat in the rear passenger seat behind Bobby. His cool persona had changed once in the car. He was twitchy: unconsciously bouncing his legs, touching his face, licking his lips.