by David Kersey
CHAPTER SIXTY
“Nothing yet on the auction sites, Sheriff, so far so bad,” Sarah said.
“Well, there’s 1,711 Olds Aleros registered in the state of Florida. I’m betting our man either has one of those, or had one of those. Don’t give up on the auction angle. Make sure to follow up with Georgia and Alabama. Ok, Sarah?”
“You got it, Chief.”
Both the suites desk clerk and Patrolman Cousins had given an affirmative of sorts. The picture shown to them of a white Alero was a weak yes, it did seem similar to the vehicle they had seen. Coupled with Katzenberger’s confidence in what he saw, Sims wasn’t going to chase a rabbit of another color. He perused the six pages of the Alero registrations. “You’re in there somewhere, speak to me.”
“John, I really need some help. My head is spinning I’m so confused and tired.” Cassie and I listened while Marlene unloaded as they both sat at the bar. “First we get an employee sent from Heaven, we think. Then Charles calls and is coming home in the next few days. Then a vet calls with PTSD and wants in immediately and says he will help lend a hand. My cell phone won’t stop blowing up from the news article. There were over three hundred hits on the webpage just today. John, I’m overwhelmed. I haven’t had any time to work with Buck. Good grief, I didn’t expect to be this busy.”
“I know, sweetpea, I know it’s tough. But you know, everything you said seems to be good news. It just needs to space out so you can get your arms around it. Right?”
“My arms and my head. And you’re right, it’s good. It’s coming all at once. The final inspection is day after tomorrow, and I put the heat of Jim to speed up the guest house. I really need Tillie to show up. I need her pronto. My God, John, I’ve got a dog coming in tomorrow, plus Tillie’s dog. I’m calling Tillie. I hope she’s on her way.”
“Tillie, its Marlene. Where are you?”
Marlene listened and gave John a thumbs up. “Good news, kiddo, can’t wait. Be careful. We’ll have something ready to eat when you get here.”
“How soon?” John asked.
She’s in Ohio, on I-70 this side of Columbus. What is that, about an hour away?”
“Over an hour if she is just leaving Columbus, but under an hour if she’s as far as Zanesville. Did she say where she was more exactly?”
“No, she didn’t. And I’m hungry now. Let’s snack on something. It’s dark out, John, I hope she can find her way in the dark.”
“Marlene, take a deep breath and relax. Just think if things were going wrong. Every single thing is going right. She’ll be here in a flash and the tension will ease for you. Wait and see. And what can I do to help, would a shoulder rub help?” He didn’t wait for an answer, and I could tell she was enjoying the massage. John opened a cabinet and turned on the stereo. The room filled with soft music, then he resumed the massage.
“And we have to start on the farmhouse soon, and Tillie’s recertification, get the business license and insurance and the LLC and the obstacle course and…..”
“Relax. There’ll come a day when you can sit back and put your feet on the desk.”
Marlene stood abruptly and said, “Relax, shellax, what is there to eat? And change the station to rock and roll, for Pete’s sake. And fix me something strong.”
I looked at Cassie and she was grinning. “I’ve never seen a human so uptight. It’s kinda funny isn’t it?” Cassie looked at me and frowned, obviously sticking up for the female species, but I knew she wanted to grin with me.
She was on her second gin and tonic when the doorbell rang. “Oh, my God, she’s here.” Marlene ran up the stairs and screamed when she opened the door. “You’re here. Praise God in the Heavens above.”
Tillie was not alone. Standing beside her the most handsome Belgian Malinois in the world. “Bblackie!”
I heard the dog say, “Pleased to meet you ma’am.” I heard it, and so did Cassie, but of course Marlene hadn’t. I looked at Cassie and we both guffawed out loud.
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Fred Ferand was out of range to pick up a Little Rock radio station, but he was sure that if he could he would hear the devastating news of the tragic murder of a Favorite Daughter. He would have liked to have heard that. Didn’t matter. Wanda Lopez awaited him. Beech Grove, here I come. And he would hear soon enough. He’d check his laptop at the next gas stop. He was making good time in the whatever, already through Nashville on I-65. He sang along with the Queen rhapsody, “nothin’ really matters, nothin’ really matters, to me.”