“Who the Christ is Harold?” Stein sneered.
“Isn't that your name?”
“Arnold.”
Arnold! Dammit! “That's what I meant.”
“Over four years, and you don't even know my name.”
“I did too … Arnold.”
“Just call me Stein, like you have been.”
“Your wife still away?”
“Away!” Stein shot back. “My wife died a year ago, Coast!”
“Oh, shit,” said Dan. “I'm sorry.”
“You didn't even bother showing up for the funeral.”
“I'm sorry, Stein. I didn't—”
“I'm just tuggin' your ball sack, Coast,” said Stein. He let out a loud boisterous laugh. “Gladys is up in Fernandina Beach visiting her niece”
“You prick.”
Stein presented his drink-filled glass again. “Can I make you a drink?”
“You got tequila?”
“Sure, Coast. I got a full bar in there.”
“Okay then, I'll have a tequi—”
“I got rum and that's it. You want one?”
“Yes, please.”
Stein sat his drink on the step next to him and got up. He let out a loud groan. Much louder than was called for. “I'll be right back.”
When Stein returned with Dan's drink, Dan asked, “Hey, Stein, you ever hear of a guy they called Judge Paragould?”
Stein handed Dan his drink. “Judge Paragould,” he said. “There's a blast from the past.”
“So, you've heard the name?”
Stein took his seat back on the step. He scooted over a little, just in case Dan wanted to sit as well. “Oh yeah, I remember him. Him and his daughter moved here back sometime in the nineties. Judge even ran for mayor in the late nineties. Got sick—cancer, I think. Had to drop out of the election. Miserable old bastard.”
“Do you know where he was a judge—where they moved here from?”
Stein chuckled. “He wasn't no judge. That was just his nickname. His real name was Leslie—probably why he went with a nickname.”
“Huh.” Dan sipped his drink. “How do you know so much about him?”
“Him and that daughter of his used to come into the restaurant about once a week.”
“What restaurant?”
“Mine, Coast. That's what I used to do. Gladys and I opened the place a year after we moved here. We were just kids.” Stein got a faraway look in his eye as he thought about the good old days.
“Come down on horseback?” Dan joked.
“Smart-ass,” Stein replied. “We moved here from Pittsburgh in 1971, and, like I said, opened the restaurant the next year. Built this house in '79. It was the—”
“Yeah, I know, first house on the block.”
“Am I boring you, ya prick?”
“No—a little.”
Stein snorted. “First class prick,” he commented. “So, what makes you ask about Judge, any way?”
“His daughter hired me to find her husband. He went missing the end of last week.”
“She call the cops?”
“She wanted to handle it without police involvement.”
“She was a wacky bird,” Stein recalled. “What was her name?”
“Lola.”
“That's right. Lola and Leslie. She married some bum from the island here, if my memory serves me. A gambler. Always drunk. Don't know if he ever had a place of his own. Mooched off of friends mostly. He probably owes me a few bucks, if I thought back far enough. Can't remember the guy's name.”
“Lyndon.”
“That's him. Skinny bastard, but strong as a bull. He went missing last week you say?”
“Not Lyndon,” Dan said. “Lola and him were divorced years ago. She married a new guy, a lot younger than her. His name is Branson.”
“And he's the one who's missing?'
“Yes.”
“Got it. What ever happened to Lyndon?”
“He lives in Marathon. He got a small house in the divorce. I was just up there speaking with him and his daughter.”
“Now, is this also Lola's daughter?”
“Yes, it is.”
“She must be pretty upset that her step-dad has disappeared.”
“She doesn't seem to be. She appeared indifferent to the whole situation.”
“That's too bad.”
“Did Lola have a good relationship with her father?” asked Dan. “I mean, from what you could tell.”
“Well, like I say, Judge was a miserable bastard. He had a lot of rules, that one. It looked to me like Lola followed them all.”
“What kind of rules?”
“Stupid things. Lola was only allowed to order dessert on certain days. I remember one evening Lola met Judge at the restaurant. He arrived about fifteen minutes before her. When she finally walked in, Judge was pissed.”
“Pissed about what?”
“Come to find out, Lola was supposed to wear dresses on Wednesdays. Well, it was a Wednesday, and Lola walked in wearing a pair of jeans.”
“What happened?”
“Judge ordered his dinner. He sat there and ate his dinner. He never let Lola order. She just had to sit there and watch him eat. When he was done, they got up and left.”
“Crazy.”
“She wore a dress the following Wednesday.”
“I bet she did. I would have too—well, you know what I mean.” Dan downed the rest of his rum and Coke. He sat the glass down on the top step. “Thanks, Stein,” he said. “I better get home. That dog's probably gotta take a shit.”
Dan turned and headed home. He looked to his left to see Edna McGee watching him from her front window. He waved, and Edna let the curtain close. Dan snickered to himself. Nosy old lady.
Dan walked up his steps and opened the front door. Buddy was lying on his bed. He lifted his head and gave Dan the old where-the-Christ-have-you-been look.
“Sorry, old boy,” Dan said. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
Buddy got up and headed for the back door; Dan followed him. On their way through the kitchen, Dan glanced down at Buddy's water dish. It was almost full. He opened the back door, and pushed open the screen. Buddy trotted down the steps and into the backyard.
Dan let the screen door slam shut, turned around, and walked to the cupboard for a glass. He filled the glass with ice, and then walked back into the dining room, to the bar, and added a shot of tequila. He topped off the glass with 7UP.
By the time Dan got back to the screen door, Buddy was finished with his business and waiting for his best friend to join him at the Adirondack chairs.
“I'm comin',” Dan said.
Buddy barked.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Dan walked to one of the Adirondack chairs and took a seat. He took a big gulp of his drink and placed the glass on the ground next to him. He put his head back in the chair, and was sound asleep within seconds.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Dan the Man!”
“Jesus!” Dan shouted, almost coming out of his skin. “What the Christ?”
“Sorry,” Skip said. “Did I wake ya, dude?”
“Yeah, dude,” Dan replied. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Red lumbered along side Skip. He was chuckling. “You shoulda seen your face. Total fear. Priceless.”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” Dan said. He scooted up in his seat and leaned over the arm rest in search of his drink. Finding the glass, he grabbed it and put it to his lips. The ice had completely melted and the glass was half empty. Dan looked over at Buddy. Buddy guiltily turned his head.
“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Dan asked.
“Red said the two of you were going over to see The Amazing Gary,” Skip said. “I figured I'd go with.”
Dan reached for his phone to look at the time. “How long was I out? What time is it?”
“Relax,” said Red. “We don't have to be to The Amazing Gary's for another two
hours.”
Dan yawned and ran his fingers through his short hair, and then rubbed his eyes. “You guys want a drink?”
“No,” Red answered. “We drove by the office to see if you were there. You weren't, so we came here.”
“What did you need at the office?”
“Red said you questioned Lola's ex,” Skip replied. “Just wanted to see if ya added what you learned to the case board.”
“Didn't really learn anything new,” Dan said. “Although Stein did tell me that Judge Paragould wasn't really a judge; Judge was just his nickname. His real name was Leslie. He ran for mayor back in the nineties. Had to drop out of the race because he got cancer, or something. Stein said Judge and Lola used to come into his restaurant once a week or so. I guess Stein used to own a restaurant here in town.”
“The Reef Cantina,” Red and Skip responded in unison.
“How the hell did you know that?” Dan asked.
“We're not self-absorbed,” Red answered.
“Is that your word of the week?” Dan asked. “I'm getting pretty tired—hey, did The Amazing Gary tell you I was self-absorbed?”
“No, pal,” Red replied with sarcasm, “I could figure that out on my own.”
“Figure it out?” Dan shot back. “You couldn't even sound it out.”
“Hurtful.”
“What does any of what you learned about Judge Paragould today have to do with Branson's disappearance?” Skip asked.
Dan shrugged. “Probably nothing,” he replied. “I was just telling you what I heard.”
“Shall we ride over to the office?” asked Skip.
“Might as well,” Dan replied. He downed the rest of his watered-down drink and stood. “Let's stop by the liquor store on the way. We need to stock the office.”
The three men walked toward the driveway. Dan halted. He looked around for Buddy. Buddy was lying on Bev's deck.
“I'll be back later!” Dan shouted to the dog.
“Aren't ya gonna put him inside?” Red asked.
“He'll be fine,” Dan responded. “He hates being cooped up in the house all day.”
“Should you put him on a leash?”
“I should put you on a leash.”
“Taking my car?” Skip asked.
“Shotgun!” Red shouted.
“Dammit!” said Dan.
*****
Skip pulled into one of the parking spaces on Fleming Street. The three men climbed out of the old yellow Volkswagen Thing and crossed the intersection. Dan carried a paper bag containing a bottle of tequila, a bottle of rum, and a bottle of Scotch. Red carried a package of plastic cups, a two-liter bottle of Coke, and a two-liter bottle of 7UP they had grabbed at Lime Tree Food Mart, where they had also purchased the bag of ice that Skip was carrying. They went up the stairs and into the office. Everyone sat what they were carrying on Red's desk.
“Still smells musty in here,” Red commented. “Open a window.”
Dan went to one of the windows that over-looked Fleming Street, and Skip made a bee-line for the case board.
Skip grabbed the blue marker sitting in the tray under the board. He held the dry-erase marker in one hand, and scratched his chin in thought with the other. “Let's see,” he whispered to himself. “Where in the world is Branson Pudgewheat Breckenridge?”
“Damn windows are painted shut,” said Dan. He smacked the edges of the sash with his palms, trying to break loose the old paint.
“Does Branson carry a weapon?” Skip asked.
“I never asked about that.” Dan said. He continued to struggle with the window.
Red opened the package of cups and placed three of them side by side on the desk. He grabbed the bag of ice and tore the top open.
“Does Lyndon know what Branson claims to do for a living?” Skip asked.
“Shelby thinks he's a traveling salesman or something along that line.”
“What about Lyndon?”
“I didn't think to ask.”
“If you'd like,” Skip offered, “I could write down some questions for you to ask when you're interviewing someone.”
“Ha!” Red shouted.
“Just make the damn drinks,” Dan ordered.
“What's the matter?” Skip asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Maxine offered to write down some questions too,” Red said.
“I hate all of you people,” Dan announced. “Where's my drink?”
Red turned and handed Dan his drink-filled red Solo cup.
“Thank you,” Dan said.
“You're quite welcome, sir.”
Dan turned and joined Skip at the case board. “Got it all figured out?” he asked.
“I think the butler did it,” Skip joked. “What did Shelby and her dad have to say this morning?”
“Lyndon claimed he didn't know Branson was missing. Shelby didn't seem to know either, and quite frankly, didn't seem to care.”
“Shelby arrived in Key West with her mother Wednesday morning,” Skip observed. “What time did she get to her father's?”
“It must have been sometime before six,” Dan replied, “because Shelby and her mother weren't here when Reatha arrived to hear Branson and Lyndon arguing.”
Red handed a Rum and Coke to Skip.
“Thanks, Red Man.”
Red picked up the rum and Coke he had made for himself and walked around the desk. He took a seat in his desk chair, leaned back, and put his feet up on the desk. “Having an office is nice,” he commented. “I feel like I'm actually at work.”
Dan and Skip turned to look at the big guy.
“You look like you're hard at work, Red Man,” Skip offered.
“It's a tough job,” Red admitted, “but somebody's gotta do it.”
Dan and Skip returned their attention to the case board.
“How did Shelby get to her dad's?” Skip asked.
“I didn't ask that either.”
Skip stepped forward and wrote how and when did Shelby arrive at dad's on the board.
“Oh, is that a reminder for me?” Dan asked defensively.
“You know it, bro,” Skip replied. Underneath what he'd just written, he jotted Branson's gun? What kind?
Dan shook his head slowly. He was beginning to think no one had any faith in his detective skills. He sipped his drink.
“I'd love to take a trip to Oklahoma and Kansas to find out if either of these common law marriages were ever filed with the state,” said Skip.
“That's not gonna happen,” Dan replied.
“Let's remember to ask Shelby if she recalls her mother and Branson having a ceremony or wedding reception,” Skip said. He stepped back up to the board to write another reminder. “How old would Shelby have been at the time of the wedding?”
“She's fifteen now,” Dan said, “so she would have been twelve or thirteen at the time of the marriage.”
“How're those drinks?” Red asked.
“Perfect, Della,” Dan replied.
“Della?” Red asked. “Who the hell is Della?”
Dan ignored his friend's inquiry.
Skip put the cap back on the blue marker and returned it to the tray.
“Can't think of any more questions for me?” Dan asked.
“Not at this juncture, bro,” Skip answered. He pulled his cell phone out of the side pocket of his board shorts and checked the time. “We better vamanos, amigos. It's almost three.”
Red looked at his watch. “Holy crap. Where did the time go?” He swung his legs off the desk and stood up. He downed his drink. “Shotgun!”
“You bastard!” said Dan.
Dan and Red headed for the door. Skip continued to stare at the case board.
Dan turned back. “Did you think of something else, Skip?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“Don't worry about it,” Dan pointed out. “This could all be over in an hour or so.”
“How do you figure?” asked Skip.
“Maybe w
e'll get lucky, and The Amazing Gary will have all the answers.”
“You promised you wouldn't be a dick if I let you come with me!” Red hollered.
“I didn't promise.”
“You said you would be on your best behavior.”
“Now you're just putting words in my mouth,” said Dan.
The three men walked out the door and Dan locked it behind them.
“Yeah, Red Man,” said Skip, “don't put words in Dan the Man's mouth. He's always on his best behavior.”
“That's what I'm afraid of,” Red responded.
Chapter Twenty-Five
On Flagler Street, Skip steered his Thing to the curb in front of a lime-green bungalow, shifted into park, and shut off the engine. A 3x2 foot sign on a wooden post in the small front yard told Skip he was at the right place.
“So this is The Amazing Gary's office,” Skip said. “Huh, I pictured something a little different.”
“A cave?” Dan suggested.
“ Maybe a wooden structure with a stone chimney and moss growing on the roof,” Skip responded. “Something a little more Snow White-ish, perhaps.”
Red got out of the car. “You guys are idiots,” he commented.
“Yeah,” said Dan, “we're the idiots. How much did you say this was costing you per week?”
As the three men strolled up the walkway, Skip read the sign. “He reads palms too?” he asked.
“That's what the sign says,” Dan replied. “I guess he couldn't say it if it weren't true.”
Red stopped and turned. “If you guys aren't gonna take this seriously, then you both can wait in the car.”
“We'll be good,” Skip assured him. They continued to the door.
Red knocked.
“Should we ask about the Branson case?” Skip asked.
“No,” Dan replied.
“You said The Amazing Gary might have all the answers.”
“That was a joke, Skip.”
Red knocked again.
“I might bring it up anyway,” said Skip.
The door opened, and standing before them was The Amazing Gary. Skip looked him up and down. The tall seer of the future was wearing the same purple smoking jacket as the last time Dan visited. Gary ran his fingers through his gray hair. Skip marveled at Gary's widows peak and hollow cheeks. Gary's eyes went slowly from one man to the other, finally locking eyes with Skip.
Corner Office (From the Tales of Dan Coast Book 12) Page 12