Restoring Passion

by Sandra Kyle

  “Eleven thirty a.m. is a bit early for me.” Nate glanced at his watch.

  “Or late, depending on how you look at it,” Donnie chimed in and attempted to climb onto the end bar stool. Phil, sitting next to him, offered a hand.

  “And I don’t want to be one of those people that frequents their place of work even when they’re off the clock,” Nate added.

  “Your place of business has the good stuff,” Jack countered. “Besides, a drink on me is hard to pass up.”

  “This is true. It happens so rarely.” Nate scooted onto a stool. “I’ll let you know if anything should be avoided if you decide to eat. Steer clear of the salmon.”

  “You miscounted, Jack. Only five of us.” Daniel pointed to the drinks. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, exhausted from the three hours they had spent on the tennis court in the late June heat. He was a smelly, hot mess—according to Nate. The cool temperature in the bar area made the clothes sticking to his skin feel like they had come right out of a freezer.

  “Two for me. I need it.” He grabbed a glass. “To making it through the morning with Ms. Mabel.”

  The weary group raised their glasses and repeated the toast. They all slammed back the tequila in unison.

  “Smooth,” Daniel commented.

  Jack nodded. “Told you, good stuff.” He clapped Daniel on the shoulder. “And, might I say, some damn good acting today.”

  A crease formed between Daniel’s brows.

  “Mabel had some major afterglow from the swoon-inducing attention,” Jack clarified.

  Nate chuckled. “I thought I was going to have to follow her around the tennis court with a mop.”

  Phil shook his head. “Only you can get away with a remark like that.”

  Daniel shrugged. “Didn’t do as much good as I’d hoped.”

  Jack downed his second shot. “Disagree. Confirms your suspicion that she spent time with you-know-who.”

  “But it’s still only a suspicion, and what would a lawyer call it?”

  “Hearsay,” Nate answered.

  Daniel pointed to Nate in agreement. “Hearsay. It wouldn’t be enough to even bother the police with. She’d deny it, and Cameron would follow suit. We need some concrete evidence.”

  “They could both be stupid enough to deny it. But Cameron doesn’t come across as her little puppy dog. You heard them both say Brian came to the club for a lesson?” Jack asked.

  Daniel nodded.

  “Donnie’s going to go over the footage we shot this morning and wave his editing wand over it. We’ll review and hopefully find a morsel of incriminating dialogue. Don’t forget, we all had to sign in and get a visitor’s badge. There are surveillance cameras all over the place. The police might just come across something suspicious in those videos that we can corroborate.”

  “We’re on it, boss.” Donnie confirmed Jack’s request. He leaned in and winked at Daniel at the other end of the bar. “I even had Phil record some stuff we could claim we’d be using with voiceovers. We might pick up some revealing conversation.”

  Jack lifted a finger high above the group. “Do we have signed releases that cover our asses?”

  Donnie hopped off his stool and dug into one of the numerous pockets in his baggy cargo shorts. He lifted some folded papers into the air as high as he could. “We do!”

  Jack slammed a fist onto the bar in triumph. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout! My man, Don, thinkin’ ten steps ahead per usual.”

  The group whooped it up in unison in the almost empty restaurant.

  Daniel couldn’t help but smile at the merry band of miscreants.

  “All right. I run a tight ship, do I not?” Jack asked.

  Donnie saluted. “You do, Captain.”

  “Let’s get back to the office and get that footage ready for viewing. I need a good laugh amid all this controversy. Seeing Danny try and serve might do it,” Jack jabbed at his friend.

  “I think Danny did a great job for a beginner. Used some of those baseball skills to his advantage.”

  “No one asked for commentary, Donnie.” Another jab at Donnie silenced everyone while Jack fished the cash out of his wallet and dropped it for the absentee bartender. “I’ll call you tonight?” His eyes scanned Daniel’s face.

  “Yeah, sooner if you find something worthwhile?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Donnie and Phil followed their boss out. Nate filled Jack’s now empty seat next to Daniel. “Vick!” he called to the bartender on duty. “I know your ass would be out here cleaning up if we were ‘real’ customers.” One of his long arms snuck behind the counter. A clean white towel emerged in his hand. He polished the counter surface. “This tip looks very tempting.”

  Vick floated in from the back room. “Don’t bust my balls. It’s too early in the day for you, Nate.” The bleary-eyed blond stacked the empty glasses and removed them from their sight, along with the cash.

  “Some of us might actually want something to eat.”

  “Then you should go sit in Kara’s section. I’ve got inventory to do.” Vick blew him a kiss and disappeared.

  Nate shook his head. “Good help is so hard to find these days.”

  Daniel stood up and stretched. “I should get home and clean up.”

  “You’re not going to be able to relax until you hear from Jack.”

  “Probably not.”

  “I’ve got a few hours before I have to come back. I’ll stop by your place in an hour. We’ll go on a little expedition.”

  “Ah, I’m not up for any more shopping trips.”

  “What if we were shopping for evidence?” Nate strummed his fingers on the sparkling counter.

  Daniel perked up. “What do you mean?”

  “Just trust me, Danny Boy.”

  *

  The green awning Daniel and Nate sat under had seen better days. From the uneven brick sidewalk underfoot to the rickety outdoor chairs, the unassuming and ancient facade of VinnieVanGoGo’s did little justice to the beautiful specimen Daniel had encountered. A perfect slice of pizza had slid out of the restaurant’s brick oven minutes ago to land on a plate in front of him.

  The duo had walked the busy City Market blocks to end up at the eatery. Their view of Franklin Square in the summer afternoon heat offered a myriad selection for people watching.

  Daniel enjoyed the flavors of basil and marinara. The velvety mozzarella and crisp dough took his mind off the reason Nate had taken him on this mysterious, yet gastrically satisfying, trip. The peeling whitewashed brick wall of VinnieVanGoGo’s exterior made his fingers itch to pick up a brush.

  Nate wiped away sauce dripping down his chin. “I remember one night coming here. It was after a drag show at Club One. A few friends and I were way past the legal limit of Long Island iced teas.” He pointed down Montgomery Street to the end of tables and chairs at the corner. “A rowdy bunch of college frat boys walking by must have been in a dick-measuring contest. They started giving us a hard time. One was particularly mouthy.” His posture straightened. “So, I stood up and doled out my usual quick-witted quips.” He curled his right hand into a fist. “He clocked me in the face. By the time I shook it off, I was rescued by a Good Samaritan. This stranger came up from behind my assaulter, held back his arms, and told me to go for it.” Nate smiled. “I gave him a comparable right hook and then the group took off.”

  “Nice story. Is that why we’re here? For you to stroll down memory lane?”

  Nate sighed. “You could say that. That stranger ended up being my boyfriend for about a year. Then, he decided to become a police officer.”

  Daniel stopped chewing. “Your friend in the force?”

  “Yep. You could say I called in a favor.” He cocked his head to the left. The sunglasses resting on the ridge of Nate’s nose reflected the sun’s rays like a mirror, blinding Daniel for a few seconds. “Lot of history there, much of which I will not be disclosing at this or any juncture with you. Hence, the favor. Don’
t mention any of this to Lenny,” he warned.

  A tall, towering figure approached their table, cutting through the sea of chairs. He looked massive. When Nate stood up to greet the man and fell short in comparison by a few inches, Daniel’s guess was confirmed.

  “Nathaniel.” The deep voice hinted at familiarity. Tree-trunk biceps threatened to bust the sleeves of his dark blazer. He embraced Nate in a huge bear hug. A briefcase hung against Nate’s figure, the handle gripped in sausage-sized fingers.

  “Robert.” Daniel thought he caught a reddening of cheeks under Nate’s dark complexion when he was released from the grip. “You are looking well, my man.”

  Robert ran fingers through his black, wavy hair. “You approve of the cut?”

  “Well, I could do better.” He seemed to remember Daniel was present. “Oh, this is Danny. The reason I called.”

  Robert raised a hand, halting Daniel from standing, then offered a shake. He pulled up a nearby chair and made himself at home at their table. “Detective Waterman. Nice to meet any friend of Nathaniel’s.” The removal of sunglasses revealed large brown eyes.

  “I appreciate this, Robbie,” Nate interjected.

  The burly man grinned. “Have to admit I was surprised you used your one credit for this.” He wedged the briefcase between himself and the table. Lock clasps triggered in release under his quick manipulation. The case opened a fraction. He slipped his hand inside and pulled out a manila file. “Thought you’d save it for when you needed a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  “When?” Nate clutched his chest. “Ye of little faith. I’m not that same eighteen-year-old you spent so much time with back then.”

  “Hm. Hope not.” The file arched over the table, an offering by Robert in Daniel’s direction. “Nathaniel says you may have a lead on the Lancaster case. Detectives Howard and Langlon haven’t made much in terms of headway.”

  He reached his hand out then stopped. “Is this something I should be looking at?”

  Nate sighed. “Stop asking questions or you will make me regret cashing in.”

  Daniel frowned and grabbed the file.

  Robert added, “There’s the hope sharing will lead to reciprocation on your part. If we can tie Lancaster to a motive for being in Savannah, it can clear some suspects. He tried to blackmail you before?”

  Daniel shot an accusatory glance toward Nate.

  “The information shared was done out of concern, Mr. Lowe.” The giant of a man spoke in a soft tone. “Did a similar situation take place right before his death?”

  Daniel nodded and flipped the file open. Typed page after page passed through his fingers. The cloud of secrecy caused him to check over his shoulder with every new bit of information revealed. He froze at a collage of photos displaying Brian in a beige tub. He was almost fully immersed in crimson-tinted water. Dark red blood ran down from the ceramic where his head lolled over the tub’s edge. Brian’s eyes were closed, mouth agape. Daniel shuddered.

  “There is no surveillance system outside of the motel room where he stayed in Savannah. Great place for affairs and anonymity, not much else. Toxicology report indicated a high level of Diazepam and alcohol in his system,” Robert continued.

  “Valium?” Nate asked.

  Robert nodded. “No prescriptions in his name for that drug. So, either he acquired it via a dealer or was supplied some. When the clerk was questioned, he mentioned seeing a blonde arrive at the motel with Lancaster in his BMW late Saturday afternoon. The day of his death. We think he succumbed to the effects of the drug, passed out as he was getting ready to take a bath, possibly slipped and hit his head on the tub. He bled out from the head injury.”

  “Anything weird in the motel room?” Nate did not hold back his inquisitive nature. And I’m the one that was asking too many questions?

  “Only one thing in his car. A pair of women’s tennis shoes on the passenger floor. Size six. Pretty sure they belonged to his companion. Evidence list and photos are toward the back.”

  Daniel studied the pink tennis shoes. Mabel had a lucky pair that she wore forever, until, oh, a month ago. Cameron’s voice echoed in Daniel’s head. His inner voice debated the memory. It can’t be that simple.

  “Vanessa’s an eight,” Nate said with certainty. He hopped over to the empty seat next to Daniel and leaned in to take a look at the photo. “And she’d never wear those.”

  It didn’t seem at all odd to Daniel that Nate would know his wife’s style and shoe size. But the addition to the conversation hit home. A clear plastic envelope at the end of the folder provided a glimpse of the blackmail photos handed over to the police weeks back by their lawyer. Guilt, shame, and anger raked into Daniel at the images of himself. He pulled his gaze away and flipped to the beginning of the file. How many people have seen those? The hairs on the back of his neck tingled. We really are suspects. I’ve got to get this resolved.

  Nate mumbled, “I know someone who would though. She has some tiny feet, too.”

  Robert’s gaze flitted from one to the other. “That’s about all the time I have for Show and Tell today.” His open palm was the only indication Daniel needed to close the file and return it to the detective. “Anything you’d like to share?”

  Daniel again cased the surrounding area with long looks over both shoulders. “I’d bet you my truck that those tennis shoes belong to Mabel Fitz-Davis. She was with Brian the day he died.”

  “Fitz-Davis?” Robert leaned in. “Wife of Archibald? The Fitz-Davis family?”

  Nate and Daniel nodded in unison.

  “They are incredibly well-known throughout Savannah. Need something to go on to bring her in for questioning. A hunch won’t do it.”

  “Brian was at the country club the same day that happened,” Nate piped in and pointed to the folder.

  “How do you know that?”

  “One of the tennis instructors at the club—a Cameron Brighton—told me Brian toured the club with Mabel that day," Daniel added.

  “Good. That’s a lead we’ve been needing.” He sighed, dropped the file in his briefcase and snapped it shut. He cleared his throat. “Mr. Lowe, about those photos you and your wife handed over. They are another reason that Nathaniel reached out to me. It all becomes another piece of evidence after a while to us, just the nature of the job. But in any event, if you need to talk to someone about being victimized… you should know there is help.”

  Daniel felt his brows scrunch. “Victimized?”

  Nate bumped his shoulder. “It doesn’t only happen to women, Danny. Or gay men.”

  “I…look…” Daniel’s face heated up.

  Robert raised a hand. “Help is out there. Enough said. Don’t let it get the best of you. I got in this business to serve and protect. You know how to reach me.” He shook Daniel’s hand. “Nate’s a decent judge of character. That’s enough for me to trust you’ll help us out as well.”

  “Thanks.”

  Robert smiled at Nate. “I’ll try and make it by the Beacon sometime soon.”

  “I’ll have a White Russian with your name on it.”

  “My man.” He gave Nate a wink and walked off in the direction of Franklin Square.

  “Not a word to Lenny,” Nate reminded.

  Daniel’s head swirled with a thought, pushing the uncomfortable discussion out of the forefront. “I’ve got to go.” He stood up. “Another favor?”

  Nate raised an eyebrow then joined Daniel for the walk back to his parked truck some blocks away.

  “Fill Vanessa in on all of what happened today? I mean I know you were going to already. But let her know that things are going to get better. Soon.”

  “You could tell her.”

  “Nah. I’m going to respect her wishes this time.”

  “Come on, Danny. It’s not going to do you any good to sit and stew the rest of the day away.”

  “I’m going to head to the beach house. Get some work done. Keep myself busy.”

  “Want me to join you?”


  “You’ve got your own job. I’m fine, Nate. This helped. Really. I can’t believe you did all that for us. It’s not something I could ever repay you for.”

  Nate smirked. “Sure as hell can repay me… especially if I’m ever in need of bail money. You and Vanessa are both on the hook for that.”

  Chapter Eight

  The grip Vanessa had on her phone loosened at the news Nate dropped. “I…have…so many questions.” The words squeaked out of her dry mouth. She gripped the edge of her kitchen counter.

  “Don’t know how much I can answer in the next five minutes.” A strong breeze battled with Nate for control of the microphone. “Walking to work as we speak. He wanted me to let you know the events of the day.”

  “You’ve been keeping all of this under wraps? For weeks? Color me impressed.”

  “Apparently, Danny thinks I tweet at you like a morning dove outside your window more than Little Monsters bow in daily duty to Lady Gaga.”

  Regaining some of her senses, she popped the top off her root beer. “If I was hip, I’d know what the hell you were talking about.”

  “Oh, sweetie… we don’t say hip anymore.”

  “Just confirmed my own theory.”

  “Ness?”

  “What?”

  “It’s not my place.”

  Vanessa sighed. “That’s never stopped you before, Nate. Spill.”

  “I’m worried about your husband.” There was silence on the other end of the line for some seconds. Vanessa held her tongue and waited for him to continue. “Estranged or not, the man isn’t doing well. And you and I both know, deep down, he did not cheat on you. He can’t be the big strong man for everyone all the time. Check in on him. Please.” He exhaled. “There. I’ve said my peace. No need for any more awkward silences. I’m clocking in. Call me if you need me.”

  “Will do.” Vanessa limped out the response. She stared at the screen after hanging up. Her tongue poked at the sore, fleshy interior of her mouth. A bad habit of cheek biting had reincorporated itself into her daily routine since the madness emerged. The family tracking app was opened. She tapped Daniel’s name. A pin landed on a point of the Savannah map familiar to Vanessa.