Solemn Duty (1997) (13 page)

"Well, how 'bout me? Is anybody goin' to say, hey Regina, thanks for nothin'?"

Eli reached up and patted her arm. "Thanks for runnin' the printouts. I couldn't have made a fool of myself without ya."

Regina leaned over and whispered, "We'll get her next time, boss."

Millie Tanner walked into the empty living room and saw Ashley standing just outside the sliding glass doors on the balcony, staring out at the Chattahoochee River. She joined her, leaning on the balcony railing. "What'd'ya think?"

Ashley turned and looked back inside. "He'll like it because of this view."

Millie smiled. "That's what I think, too. Thanks for coming over during your lunch hour and taking a look. The rent isn't too bad for a two bedroom, and the kitchen is functional, though small, and the blue rugs aren't too ugly. Now I won't have to worry about him living in a damn trailer. Seven Brothers says his things should be here in another week. I don't even want to think about what he's got coming to furnish these moms with. By the looks of that old pickup of his, I can imagine, though-Salvation Army rejects, I bet"

Ashley looked back at the tranquil river. "I bet it will surprise you. I'd think he'd want things that meant something to him. Won't be fancy, but they'll all have purpose and meaning."

Millie gave Ashley a side glance. "Don't get me wrong when I say this, but are you getting along all right with him?

He's mellowed some with age, but his temper can get the best of him sometimes . . . that, and he usually says what's on his mind. It kinds puts women off when they get to know him."

Shrugging, Ashley took a step back from the railing. "We're doing okay. I'm not the easiest person to get along with myself, but he seems to know when to stop pushing. He's . . . he's more sensitive than I would have thought. Kind of rare for guys in the boo. He's got a good sense of humor too .. . although most of the time it's at my expense. We're going to do fine for the next eighty-seven days . . . I think."

"That's right, you're leaving for Atlanta. I'd forgotten.

You're going to miss out on me finding Miss Right for him.

'Course, the way the search is going, it might take ten years to find her. Do you know what he did the other night? Don't breathe a word of this, but that lug called Jerome from Cynthia's house and told Jerome to call him back on his cell phone in five minutes. After all my work, and he wants Jer to give him an excuse to leave. I don't know if I can face Cynthia again.

She'll ask about him, and what do I say? See what he's done to me? He's getting me into trouble with my friends, and all I'm trying to do is help him."

"Maybe what you want for him isn't what he wants,"

Ashley said. "He's a big boy. I'm sure he can find places to meet a friend."

"I'll tell you, Ashley, I'm out of it, I don't know where singles go to meet people. You find any interesting places since you've been here?"

"I don't go out, Millie. I did a while back, but it was the same old thing-the lines got old very fast, and when I did find somebody interesting, sooner or later they turned out to be jerks. It burned me out and I gave up."

Millie gave her new friend a look of concern. "Come on, that's just temporary, right? I mean how can you stand being alone all the time?"

"You get used to it. . . . It's not as bad as most people think, you just don't think or worry about it and just accept that's the way it's going to be."

"No way, not you, Ashley. If you were overweight or homely then I might feel sorry for you, but I'm not buyin' you can't find a little happiness; you look great. You've got all the tools; looks to me like you just need to put them to work?'

Ashley smiled and patted Millie's shoulder. "You and my dad would have gotten along great He was like you--thought hard work could get you anything. He was right about most of it, but when it comes to relationships, I always seem to strike out. I got hit by the ball from my ex . . . he hurt me and I guess it's made me shy of the plate. I stay too far back in the box to do any good."

Millie smiled. "Then find yourself a slow pitcher. Whatever he throws can't hurt you, and you still make it to first base. My brother always told me ya can't score unless you're on base.

And it sounds to me like you need to do some scoring. Come on, I'll buy you lunch. Together we're going to get you back in the game. I know a few bachelors your age that . . ."

Ashley followed Millie toward the door, glad to have found a friend. Millie's intentions were good, and that was enough. It was nice to talk to another woman about things other than work. She would probably allow Millie to set her up on a couple of dates, but Ashley knew it wouldn't help; the game didn't mean anything to her anymore.

.

12:03 A. M. Fort Smith, Arkansas.

Amos Blevins looked up at the cloudless night and took in a deep breath of the fresh air. He felt something brush up against his leg and looked down with a frown. "Go on, damn ya, you wanted out to piss, didn't ya? Do it on old man Jenkins's lawn.

He needs it fertilized anyway. Go on, I'm not goin' anywhere."

Amos smiled as his terrier ran toward Jenkins's lawn. "Good boy."

"Sergeant Blevins."

"Christ!" Amos blurted, spinning around. "You scared the B-Jesus outta me. Who the hell are you?'

A man approached wearing black. "Do you not remember me, Sergeant?"

"That's close enough, buster. Don't come any closer or I'll floor ya."

"Look at me, Sergeant. Do you remember?'

"Goddamn you, I said stay where you are. It's too damn dark to see who you are. Get the fuck off my property right now or I'm callin' the cops."

The dark figure lifted his hand and Amos heard a strange buzzing noise at the same instant an excruciating pain lanced his chest. Immediately, it spread through his body. He tried to scream, but his throat muscles had contracted and he couldn't breathe. He sank to his knees as the man stepped up to the porch and leaned over him.

"How's his wife doing?" the detective asked.

The paramedic stepped off the porch holding a black case.

"She's still in shock. Says there's no way he would shoot himself, though. Says he didn't even own a pistol."

The detective turned and panned his flashlight across the body on the driveway. "No sign of foul play. He must have kept his problems to himself?'

"Pretty big problems, to put a pistol to his head and rearrange his brains, Detective," the medic said.

"Yeah, a helluva way to check out Get away, dog! Damn it, Doug, I thought I told ya to catch that mutt and put him inside. Christ, damn dog keeps lickin' his face."

Another detective materialized out of the darkness.

"Checked the house and didn't find a note. I asked the wife about the cross we found in his mouth. She said he wasn't a religious man and didn't wear one."

"Well, he's got one now. What do you think? This guy kill himself or not?"

"Nothing here to say different. No signs of a struggle, and the weapon is in his hand. The lab boys will tell us for sure once they run tests on his hand for residue. If he fired the weapon, then it looks to me like the case is closed."

"No note, a .22 from nowhere, and the cross . . . none of that bothers you?'

"Yeah, it bothers me, so does him doing it with his old lady in bed forty feet away. I can't get in the guy's head and tell ya why he decided to up and off himself. What ya want me to say?"

"Something brilliant, maybe? Shit, I don't like it I'm callin' in the crime scene boys."

"Captain ain't goin' to let ya. It's almost one-thirty in the fuckin' mornin', and you goin' to wake him up and request he send out the C. S.? Good luck, Joe. You know what it costs in overtime to bring out C. S.? I don't know, either-but you can bet your ass the captain knows. And what are you going to tell him? The wife says he didn't own a pistol, but he shot himself with one. He didn't write a note, at least one we could find tonight. . . . Oh, and he had a cross in his mouth hangin' from a gold chain that the wife said he didn't own. Like we all don't hide shit from our wives?"

"Come on, Charley, this stinks and you know it"

"No, I don't know it I do know there are no signs of a struggle, and the dead man has the pistol in his hand. I know that once he's bagged, tagged, and in the morgue, tomorrow the lab boys can check his right hand and they'll probably find residue, proving he pulled the trigger on himself. That's what I know. You asked, so I told ya."

The detective turned to the coroner, leaning on his station wagon at the curb. "Bag him, Bill. The lab boys will come over tomorrow and run a residue test For now we're writing it up as a suicide."

Chapter 8.

10:40 A. M. Saturday, Green Island Country Club.

Millie Tanner sat in a lawn chair overlooking court four, watching the doubles rematch between the Tanners and the opponents they played in the tournament. She reached down for her can of Pepsi and heard someone walk up behind her.

She turned and had to raise her hand to block the sun to see who it was. She was surprised to see it was Ashley, and even more surprised by her outfit. Glistening with sweat, Ashley stood in nylon running shorts, tank top, and a pair of well-worn Nike shoes.

Millie smiled. "You're tryin' to make me feel guilty just sittin' here, aren't you?"

Ashley patted Millie's shoulder as she stepped up beside her. "I was just running by and saw them playing. . . . What's the score?"

Millie sighed and leaned back in her chair. "The Tanner boys are havin' fun but gettin' beat. It's a good match, but my poor hubby is havin' a bad day. Sit down and let me tell you the latest."

Ashley smiled. "The quest for a mate, right?"

Millie waved her down. "Last night I had my friend Paula over. She helped me cook some wonderful penne meal. I thought things were going great between her and Eli, but then she asks him what kind of wine he would like to have with his pasta The idiot said he wanted a beer. She should have got him a beer, but no, Paula is a connoisseur of wine, you see, visited Napa Valley and all that She starts in on how wonderful wine is and gives us all a ten minute lecture on aging, texture, taste, all that. She then asks him what kind of wine he wants again.

He says he wants a beer again. Needless to say, it kinda went downhill from there. I had to drive her home."

Ashley laughed and patted Millie's arm. "Hang in there.

Any of your friends a barmaid?"

"It's not funny, Ashley, I'm rennin' out of prospects fast Plus I'm worried the word will get out about how set he is in his ways, then I will be lookin' for a barmaid. What are you doin' this afternoon?"

Ashley shrugged. "Thought I'd start organizing my things for the move . . . make lists, that sort of thing."

"You can do that tomorrow. I need a big favor. Come with me this afternoon to keep me company. Eli has invited Jer and me to go fishin' with him and his Army buddy, Dan Murphy.

This Murphy person supposedly has a new fancy boat he wants Eli to see and try out. I don't want to be the only gal out on a darn boat on the Chattahoochee worryin' about snakes. Don't say no, 'cause you already told me you weren't doing anything important I need you or I'll go crazy out there telling them how much fun I'm having."

Ashley laughed again. "Come on, it can't be that bad?"

"Good, I knew I could count on you."

"Millie, I didn't say I'd--"

"Bring some sunscreen along. I've got bug repellent What kind of wine coolers you like?"

Ashley knew when she was fighting a losing battle. "Peach will be fine."

"Have you tried pina colada?. They are wonderful. I'll bring some for you along with peach so you can . . ."

Dan Murphy grinned as he switched off the motor and let the sleek new bass boat glide into the inlet. "Jerome, is this class or what? Custom metallic silver flake paint, nonfading carpeted deck, four detachable, elevated, deep-cushioned, swiveling captain's chairs, two built-in coolers, fish hold, fish finder, trolling motor, AM, FM, stereo CD, CB, the works.

This baby is the Cadillac of bass boats."

Jerome Tanner smiled as he ran his hand over the Naugahyde fake leather seats. "It's a beauty, Dan. I really like these elevated seats . . . they even rock. What size motor does it have?"

Millie leaned over to Ashley and whispered, "Isn't this the tackiest thing you ever saw? If it had a wall, they would have hung one of those black-velvet paintings of Elvis. The fire engine red carpeting is making me nauseous."

Ashley nodded. "This is definitely a bubba boat. Uh-oh, they're getting the fishing poles out . . . they're going to make us actually fish."

Murphy walked across the carpeted deck and handed Millie and Ashley each a rod with reel. "Ladies, you all sit there in those two front elevated captain's chairs and toss your lines out over toward those submerged bushes. Bass hangin' out there this time a'day. Tan man, I got purple worms there in the tackle box. Will you rig up the ladies for me?"

Seated on a flotation cushion in the exact center of the boat, Eli forced a smile. "Sure thing, Murph, no sweat."

Murphy strode back to the rear of the boat and tossed Jerome a rod. "That's the newest model, Jerome, super light, with the best reel Zebco makes. Here, try one of these fluorescent spinners . . . they're the hottest thing goin', fish just go crazy after 'em."