1 Sunshine Hunter (19 page)

“I’ll save the
details for over sandwiches,” he said as he set the Jack on the counter. “First, tell me how things went with the detective.”

“He was a smart aleck
,” I told him. “But for now, they aren’t considering me a suspect. He did tell me not to leave town though.”

“Was he serious?”
he asked.

“I don’t know
.” I shrugged. “I think he might have been. But he did say he would look into Wicker Barnes. They know he was at the club last Saturday night, and they haven’t been able to find him. He’s still a suspect wanted for questioning.” I put the bread and corned beef in the oven to crisp the bread and steam the meat in foil.

“Did you tell him what we know?” he asked.

“I did,” I said. “And although I think he thought some of it was too unlikely, he did think the overall picture I painted went along with what they knew about Wicker, and they’re going to step up efforts to track him down.”

Darby smiled. I knew he was keeping something from me. “Did he tell you anything new?” he asked.

“No. I told him everything I could think of, even Wicker’s connection to Jenny, and that Mick and I were dating. He didn’t know any of that, but he wouldn’t tell me anything he knew. I suppose that’s all well and good. I don’t need to be tracking down any more bad guys.” I started making an assembly line of ingredients for the sandwiches.

Darby looked at me with some confusion and asked, “Have you been tracking down bad guys?”

“Oh my gosh! I almost forgot to tell you. I saw the Thursday night man, whose real name is Jim, and I followed him, and he’s not a bad guy.” I slowed down, started slicing the bread, and said wistfully, “He’s a really good guy. I feel badly I thought he was behind Jerry’s murder.”

I filled Darby in on Jerry’s story and how much I liked Dorothy and Jim. “They need help with their website and marketing, so I gave them your number.”

He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Don’t worry,” I
told him. “I’ll take you to meet them before they ever have a chance to call you. I’ll be going back for more cookies anyway, and you can come with me. They’re friends of Stan and Louise, and I know you’ll like them.”

I grilled the assembled sandwiches, and we sat down to eat. “Now
tell me what happened to Johnny,” I insisted. “Did he change his mind about coming?”

“No, he didn’t
,” Darby said with a chuckle. “We talked early this morning and decided he would pick me up at the hotel and we would go to the airport together. That way he could bring a bag for me to pack the rest of my clothes, and he could leave his car in long-term parking so it would be there for him when he got back.”

He took a couple of big bites of his sandwich
and said with his mouth full, “You know, I never get tired of these. You do everything perfectly, but I think the Russian dressing you make puts them over the top.” He followed the comment with a long drink of his raspberry iced tea.

“Darby, come on! Tell me your story!”
I barked at him. He was deliberately milking this.

He laughed and said,
“Ok, hold your horses. It’s coming. We made it to the airport just fine. There was nothing out of the ordinary and no sign of Wicker Barnes. Johnny was just Johnny this morning, and it was nice to be able to talk with him.”

He took another bite of his sandwich and continued
with his mouth mostly full, “We got on the airplane, stowed our carry-on bags, and sat down in our seats. I was by the window, and Johnny took the aisle seat so he could stretch out. There wasn’t anyone seated between us.”

“Lucky you guys,” I said. He grinned.

“We thought the plane was completely boarded, and then guess who got on? Wicker Barnes.”

“No way
! You’re kidding!” I shouted. I was truly shocked. “Were you afraid?”

“No, not afraid, but a little concerned. Johnny saw him right away, too, but he was subdued and didn’t react. I think the boat and shark incident yesterday took quite a bit of the theatrics out of him. At least it did for a while,” he said smiling again.

“Ok, then what?” I prodded. I wanted to hear this story as fast as I could.

“We’d only been in the air about an hour when ol’ Wicker started walking up and down the aisles looking at people. He went up and back, and then did it again. I put my head down so I wouldn’t make eye contact with him, so I don’t know if he recognized me and Johnny or not. He was most likely looking for you and had his sights set for a girl.”

Even knowing the police were looking for him, I was still startled by this. How could Darby think this was humorous?

“About ten minutes later, he did it again – up and back, up and back. When he went for a third pass, Johnny couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and blocked Wicker’s way. He put on an urban character and gave it to Wicker with both barrels.” He stopped and smiled again.

“What? What?” I couldn’t wait to hear this. “Tell me what he did!”

Darby laughed out loud. “Johnny had one hand on his hip, he was shaking his head back and forth, and he was snapping his fingers in a z formation with the other hand.” Darby leaned back in his chair to mimic the position that Johnny had taken and continued in a high-pitched voice, “He got right in Wicker’s face and said, ‘What do you think you’re doin’ walkin’ up and down this aisle every two minutes? You’re makin’ me nervous. Are you a terrorist? Are you tryin’ to scare everyone? You need to take your seat and quit walkin’ through here lookin’ at everybody’s faces. You might look like Marlon Brando, but I think you’re a terrorist all up in here tryin’ to scare everyone.’”

My mouth was hanging open. “He used the word terrorist on an airplane?” I asked.

“He sure did,” Darby
said laughing harder. “Wicker pushed him and told him to get out of his way. Johnny pushed him back and said, ‘Oh no, you didn’t. You don’t get to push me,’ and they started throwing punches! People started to scream, and the air marshal finally got in between them. The plane was diverted to Charlotte, and the police were waiting for them when we landed.”

“Oh, Darby, that’s terrible,” I said. “Poor Johnny.” I wasn’t sure this was as humorous as Darby was making it out to be.

“Maybe poor Johnny,” he acknowledged. “But he winked at me right before he was ushered off the plane. I think once he tells his side of the story, and what he knows about Wicker Barnes, they might go easy on him.”

“Do you think Johnny intended to get thrown off the plane?”
I asked.

“I do
,” he said. “You didn’t need Wicker coming back here to Ohio, and I think Johnny wanted to put him in the hands of the police.”

“I’m stunned,” I said. “That was a stupid but brave thing to do.”

I sat for a moment thinking of how Johnny had intervened for me. I hoped he wouldn’t end up in jail over this. I tried to picture him taking on Wicker on the airplane, and I had to admit, knowing how over-the-top Johnny could be, it had probably been very funny.

I looked at Darby. He was well into his second sandwich by now. “Now th
at the week is over, and you’re home, do you have any thoughts about a relationship with Johnny?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said as he looked across the table at me, “but the answer is no. The sparks were never really there, and although I like Johnny, his ability to put on different personas at the drop of a hat is kind of hard for me to deal with. I’d like someone who isn’t quite so interesting.”

“Well, you can travel some more and meet new people” I told him with a smile. “But I’m not going with you next time.”

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I might go back to St. Pete in a couple of months.”

My mouth dropped open. “Why? Why on earth would you want to go back there?”

He smiled a big smile; his eyes were twinkling. “Remember the afternoon desk clerk? His name is Nate, and there may have been a few sparks there.” We both burst out laughing.

We were done eating, and we were stuffed. We did a fast clean up in the kitchen. “Want to hang around and watch some television for a while?” I asked him. “I’m working at the club tonight, but I don’t have to go in until 9:00. You can work on the Jack, and I’ll have a glass of wine.”

We moved to t
he living room and settled into our usual spots on the sofa.

“I need an EMT unit at 4337 Ridgewood Dr. for a head injury.”

When you put four men who have been drinking beer on a racquetball court, and give them hard racquets and balls, bad things happen. Especially when they aren’t experienced players and they decide it’s a good idea to play doubles.

I was calling for help for one of the men who had just been cracked upside the head with a racquet. He was bleeding all over court number one.

Al
though not common, we did have occasional accidents at the club. The local EMT guys knew the address was Carbide Racquet & Fitness, and I didn’t have to say anything more.

The door to the court was propped open, and I could hear the man who hit him saying, “I didn’t mean it. It was an accident. Come on, Tom, I didn’t hit you on purpose.”

I let out a chuckle. It wasn’t the first time someone thought they had been hit by a racquet or ball on purpose. I had taken a quick look at the cut on his forehead before I called the ambulance, and it looked more like a glancing blow rather than a full-on hit. He would need a couple of stitches, but would likely be just fine.

The club was busy, and a crowd had gathered in the lobby to see what was going on. There was really nothing to see, but if it looks like it might be exciting, everyone wants to be in on it. I could hear the ambulance in the distance and knew the EMTs would be at the club shortly. I left the desk and asked the people nearest the door to make a path.

As Tom Decker was being loaded into the ambulance, he was promising his friends he would be back as soon as he got his stitches to “
kick your butts
.”

I swear it wasn’t 15 minutes later and Janice Lockhart, back on court number eight, smacked her face into the wall. Her husband helped her to the lobby, and I gave her an ice pack. “Did you black out? Are you dizzy? Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
I asked her.

“No, no, Susan
,” she said. “I feel fine. I smacked into the wall with my cheekbone, and I think it will just be a black eye and a bruise.”

“How did you fall?” I asked her. “Did you trip?

Her husband piped up, “I’ve been teaching her to dive for balls.”

I was aghast. “Janice, you don’t practice diving for balls. That’s so dangerous, and you could have been hurt much worse.” I turned and admonished Mr. Lockhart, “Jack, you’ve watched a lot of matc
hes, and you know full well the good players in this club rarely dive for balls. Even if you’re able to return the shot, it’s usually so weak it’s an easy setup for your opponent.” I sighed. “Teach Janice to play well, and you won’t have to worry about diving for balls.”

I turned back to Mrs. Lockhart. A guest of one of the club members was bending over her applying something to her face. “What are you doing?” I asked him in disbelief that he had intervened and was touching her.

“Tiger balm,” he said. “I’ve always got it in my bag; never leave home without it. You crack something on the floor or the wall, you rub it with tiger balm, and you won’t have pain or a bruise the next day.”

I wanted to go out
side and check for a full moon, and it was only 10:30. The group in the pub was getting louder by the minute. It was going to be a long couple of hours before I could go home and go to bed.

Surprisingly, the rest of the evening turned out to be extremely enjoyable. Corey, one of the Class A players in our club, parked on a stool at the counter for a couple of beers and chatted with me for over an hour. We talked strategy, and he gave me some good tips for the upcoming tournament in the fall. Tom Decker didn’t come back from the hospital, and the Lockharts had quit playing for the evening and had moseyed on up to the pub. By midnight, all of the courts were empty and members and guests were either showering in the locker rooms or up in the pub, where our weekend bartender, Ron, would have everything under control no matter how rowdy it became.

I had some down time to lean against the counter and wait for locker keys and towels to start coming back in. I yawned. I was tired. It had been a really long day. I hadn’t had time to call Samantha and fill her in on so many things that had happened since we last talked. I would have to do that tomorrow. I wondered if Mick had found out anything about Wicker Barnes. Wicker. Thank goodness he was in Charlotte. I shook my head and smiled again thinking about that crazy Johnny.

At 12:50,
Ron started ushering members out of the pub and out the front door. I turned off all of the lights to the courts. Ron went back upstairs, but came down to the desk a few minutes later and said, “Everyone’s out.” He logged his hours on his time card. “I checked the men’s locker room, too, and everything’s clear. I turned off the sauna and the whirlpool, so you don’t have to go up there if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks,
Ron,” I said. “I appreciate it.”