I arrived before my mother, which didn’t surprise me in the least. I ordered a cup of coffee and a muffin. Someone had left a copy of USA Today on a table next to the window, so I sat down, opened the paper, and dug into my muffin.
According to the paper, nothing much had changed in the world since Nick had been murdered on Smathers Beach. That was the big picture. In my own little snapshot of life I was overcome with the feeling that my world had gone topsy-turvy.
Death had been stalking me across the city. I’d lost a close friend. I’d fallen a little bit in love with Tanya. Of course, being a little bit in love is a lot like being a little bit drunk. You look at things through a hazy filter. When you come down off the high, you wonder what was real and what wasn’t.
I wanted to believe there was something between us, but I knew that if Tanya had helped Destiny steal the diamonds, it wasn’t going to work. Even if she had nothing to do with the murders, her participation in the theft would be a deception I couldn’t accept.
I glanced up twice when the door opened and watched strangers walk in. The third time I looked up, I saw my mother. It looked like she’d been crying. Her makeup was askew, her eyes were dark, and she appeared to have aged. I felt sorry for her. Besides me and work, Nick had been the only constant in her life for as long as I could remember-my life too. I was not surprised arranging for Nick’s cremation had taken a toll on her. Life’s a bitch, I thought, pushing the paper aside. And then it sometimes gets bitchier.
I felt an ache in the back of my throat and was overwhelmed with empathy for my mother. I stood and said, “Have a seat mother, and I’ll get you a coffee. Lots of cream, one sugar, right?”
She nodded, gave me a weak smile, and sat down while I grabbed my cup for a refill. When I returned with our coffees, she was staring at the front page of the paper.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
She folded the newspaper and set it aside. “It was harder than I thought, seeing Nick’s body. I’ve been in this business a lot of years and I’ve seen a lot of bodies. This was different.”
I reached out and touched her hand. She seemed surprised. “I’m sorry, mother. I cared for Nick too. He was the closest thing to a father I ever knew.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m going to pick up the urn this afternoon and fly back to Detroit this evening. Why don’t you come home with me?”
“I can’t. I’m not cut out for this kind of work. I wish you would realize that I’m much happier down here.”
“Living on a boat and tending bar? You’re capable of so much more.”
“The business was eating me up, mother.”
“Now you’re being overly dramatic, Wes. Besides, you’re damn good at it. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother.”
“I hate it. Besides, this isn’t over yet.”
“I’ll give the client his money back,” she said. “All I care about is that they found Nick’s killer.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“The cop I talked to, Davies, seemed pretty sure.”
“And she could be right. But there’s a lot more involved than it appears.”
“What do you mean?”
And so I told her about Destiny. I told her our client was dead, and I told her about Bob and Willie, and finally I told her about Tanya.
“I like her, Wes. She’s got spunk.”
“She might be involved in this whole thing.”
“I don’t think so. Call it woman’s intuition. Do you want me to stick around?”
I shook my head no. The last thing I needed was someone else to worry about, but there was something more I needed from her and I wasn’t sure how she was going to react.
“I need a favor, mother.”
She furled her brow and gazed at me across her coffee cup. I sat and waited. The next move was hers and I was glad when she said, “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I want you to put an investigator on Myron Stewart. I want to know about his past, his relationship with his wife and daughter. Was she his birth daughter or was she adopted? Any information they can dig up on him.”
My mother looked at me like I was crazy. “Let me get this straight. You want me to re-open the Stewart case on a whim?”
“It’s more than a whim. Some information came my way. I want it checked out.”
“So where did this information come from?”
I hated to lie to my mother, but if I was a skeptic, my mother was the queen of cynics. I didn’t even want to think about how she would react if I told her my informant was a phobic psychic. I decided a little fabrication was necessary.
“I got a call from a source back in Detroit this morning. He said he met someone who was friends with the gardener.”
“What’s this guy’s name?”
“Mother, I’m not going to tell you who it is. I promised him anonymity.”
She finished her coffee and digested what I was saying. “If I go ahead with this, will it get rid of all this guilt shit?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
There was more silence. “Will you come back to work?”
“No.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“How about if you do it because I’m your son.”
She smiled. “How about if you come back to work because I’m your mother.”
“I don’t want to talk about coming back to work,” I said.
“And I don’t want to re-open that case.”
Stalemate. There was only one way I was going to get what I wanted and we both knew it. “All right,” I said. “We’ll talk. When this case is over, I’ll fly back to Detroit and we’ll talk about anything you want to talk about. But I’m not promising to come back to work.”
My mother stood and picked up her purse. “All I’ve ever asked is that you keep an open mind. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days and you can let me know when you can fly back.”
I nodded and she turned and left. She knew enough to quit while she was ahead. It didn’t really matter. I knew I wasn’t going to change my mind, whether I was here or back in Detroit.
It was time to pay Elvis another visit. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the sky remained gray. I nearly stepped on a baby chick running along the sidewalk trying to catch up with its mother. I’d been told the city once hired a bird catcher to rid the island of its flock. It wasn’t long before the locals and visitors alike rose up against the idea, and the bird catcher was no more.
Chapter 28
It was a few minutes past noon when I arrived at Elvis’s house. Dom was standing at the top of the stairs. Unlike my first visit when he met me in formal attire, he was now dressed island casual; khaki pants, a short-sleeved pink dress shirt that pulled across his massive chest and Nike running shoes without socks.
“Morning Dom.”
He smiled. “Elvis is waiting for you.”
“Quite the psychic.” I felt bad the moment I said it. I knew from my previous visit that my tongue-in-cheek attitude about Elvis upset Dom.
I winced when Dom’s body stiffened and his smile turned to a frown. “Why do you do that?”
“I’m sorry.” I turned my eyes away the giant of a man standing in front of me and felt myself blush. I had spoken without thinking and now I’d hurt Dom’s feelings. All for no other reason than I was having a shitty couple of days. He didn’t deserve it.
“You shouldn’t make fun of Mister Elvis,” Dom said. “He hasn’t done anything to you. He’s only trying to help.”
There was no doubt in my mind Dom believed Elvis was the real thing. In my defense, private investigators tend to be skeptics by nature. Not only don’t I believe in psychics. I don’t believe in ghosts, UFO’s or the abominable snowman. I couldn’t help how I felt or what I believed. Still, I should at least take Dom’s beliefs into consideration when I spoke to him.