“I’m sure Marquita feels quite safe with you around, Sarge,” Hannibal said, settling into one of the wicker chairs.
“Sarge will never leave my side,” Marquita said, her feet tucked beneath her on the couch as if she wanted to protect them. “I know he will look after me, but you, Mr. Jones, you can go out and find this man and do something.”
“You gonna hunt this guy down and terminate him?” Monte asked with a grin.
“I’m not terminating anybody,” Hannibal said with a stern look in Monte’s direction. Then he turned to Marquita. The air conditioner was blowing hard and must have been for quite a while. It gave Hannibal a slight chill and made Marquita’s nipples press into her lightweight tank top in a way that seemed somehow inappropriate to Hannibal. “Now, Marquita, tell me what you saw.”
“I saw him,” she all but shouted. “It was Rod, right out there on the beach.”
“Alone?” Hannibal asked. “Just walking down the beach in his flip flops?”
Marquita ran fingers through her long platinum hair and curled her lips inward. Sarge sat beside her and stretched out an arm to wrap around her but she shrugged it away. Her thin form shook with ragged breaths and her hands covered her eyes. After a few seconds of silence she was able to look at Hannibal.
“I’m sorry. We were down the beach from here, maybe a mile or so. There is this lovely boardwalk with cute little shops full of useless trinkets and soft ice cream cones.”
“We were just walking along,” Sarge said. “Not really paying attention to where we were, you know? We turned off from the beach on a whim and wandered a block or two up a lane of houses.”
“That’s when they went by,” Marquita said.
“They?” Hannibal asked, prompting her on.
“It was a red Jeep, or one of those four wheel drive things,” Marquita said. “The top was off and it was just open. And there he sat in the front passenger seat. I swear he looked right through me without seeing me. I just screamed.”
“You’re sure it was him?” Hannibal asked.
Marquita sat forward, her fawn eyes locking onto Hannibal’s. “I could never forget that face.”
“Sarge, what did you do?” Hannibal glanced at Monte, who sat with eyes wide. He could see that the lady was badly shaken but he had sense enough to stay quiet. Sarge was quiet at first too, but not for the same reason.
“Worthless,” Sarge said under his breath. “Never even saw the man. All I knew was, Markie was screaming. By the time I knew why, the car was long gone.”
“But you know what this guy looks like, right?” Monte sounded anxious to help. “We can just hit the street and cover the area. Nobody ever notices me so I could follow him and come get you.”
“Appreciate the offer, Monte,” Hannibal said. “But let’s collect a little more data first. Marquita, you said Rod was in the passenger seat. Who was driving?”
Marquita’s brows closed together, as if she had never considered the question before. “He wasn’t alone,” she said as if surprised by the revelation. “There was a younger man driving. Tall, beach boy type, blonde, like a body builder. And the three girls crammed into the back seat. Wait, one of them I had seen before. Yes. It was the witch called Mariah.”
“Wearing?”
“Who knows?” Marquita said, waving a hand.
“You do,” Hannibal said in a harder voice. “Just recall the scene. Picture it in your mind.”
Marquita closed her eyes and despite the cool breeze in the room perspiration broke through the skin on her face. “The boy was bare-chested. Rod wore a Hawaiian shirt. The girls wore bikinis, all three. Solid colors, like three Italian icees. Cherry, lemon and lime.”
Hannibal broke into a grin. “Now that’s a picture that will be hard to miss. I’ve also got a couple of other leads to follow up on. But it’s getting late and I feel like I spent the whole day in the car. How about I take everyone to dinner?”
Marquita showed a sudden burst of energy, bouncing to her feet and heading for the refrigerator. “Oh, I was going to make my special Jambalaya for Archie. See, I bought everything I need. I’m sure I can make enough for the four of us. Believe me, it will be better than anything you could get at a restaurant.”
She ended with a nervous laugh. The men sat quiet. After a moment she turned toward them, one side of her smile gone but the other side still bravely holding up.
“I really just don’t want to go outside again so soon,” she said. “If we can just stay inside this one evening?”
“Of course,” Hannibal said. “It sounds wonderful.”
“Sure,” Sarge added. “We can rent a movie or something. Make an evening of it. You guys know how to play tonk?”
Monte gave Sarge a sidelong look and raised a tentative eyebrow. “Archie?”
15
Hannibal took a deep breath as he stepped out of his motel, for no other reason than that he loved the salty fresh smell of the ocean. He had booked a room in the Best Western Oceanfront. True to the name, his room did have a pleasant oceanfront view, despite the fact that the motel faced the even less impressive Budget Lodge and stood practically in the shadow of an Econolodge. But the view didn’t move him, in either direction. It was the smell of the seashore that made him smile.
It was clear that location meant nothing to Monte. He was hopping around like the dancing hamsters on the internet as they stepped out into the flashbulb-bright early morning sunshine. Hannibal wondered if he would be bouncing off the ceiling in the car.
“You know where you’re going, right?” Monte asked as they got underway.
“I have the address and the streets are numbered sequentially. I think I can find it.”
From 11th to 21st street was not far, but it would take them a while. Traffic wasn’t the only reason for their slow progress, although the streets were packed with both cars and foot traffic. Hannibal reflected that, geography aside, Washington D.C. was at heart a northern town, at least from a cultural perspective. The vast variety of restaurants, museums, and theater options hinted at that fact, but the true giveaway was the pace. People in The District had someplace to go and wanted to get there.
Virginia Beach, on the other hand, was a true Southern city. It was the biggest city in the state, but it still behaved and thought like a small town. That made the traffic very similar to driving conditions in Miami. Drivers were too busy looking at the people and shops they passed, and of course watching the ocean when they could spot it between the towering hotels, to be concerned with speed. It was as if there were no local residents, and everyone in town was on vacation.
As he headed up 21st it occurred to Hannibal that every seaside city must have been designed by a New Englander. The style of the buildings never changed. Then he passed Peabody’s, which had “the biggest dance floor in Virginia Beach” if their sign was to be believed. This was a bit more modern than the rest of its surroundings, but still had an air of that quaint small town feeling.
A few blocks later he pulled into a small parking lot behind a squat, unassuming building that could have been a residence that was just a little bigger than its neighbors. When they left the car Monte raced to the door, back to Hannibal and back to the door. Hannibal tried to remember what it was like to be a pre-teen boy. His memory failed him.
A tap at the door brought a very large, well-tattooed fellow to the door. He was perhaps twenty years old, with a huge forehead, dreadlocks and a questioning expression on his face.
“Hannibal Jones to see Huge Wilson. He’s expecting me.”
The doorman’s head moved backward on his neck. “You the nigger laid out Hard Dog?” Hannibal nodded. “Dayum!” He offered Hannibal a handshake that jumped into a series of movements, a more complex process than Hannibal could follow. It ended with the doorman pressing a fist forward. That part Hannibal recognized. He punched into the man’s fist and they all went inside.