Chapter 15
By the next day I was suffering from terminal cabin fever after doing nothing but sitting in the living room watching daytime TV. If ever there was a reason for a man not to retire, Jerry Springer and Law and Order reruns are it.
Amanda had taken the day off so Willa could do some work at the office. After a session of me pleading and her objecting, I wore her down and persuaded her to take me to the office. She dropped me off at the front door.
“Will you be able to get up the stairs okay?” she asked.
“Sure. See you later.”
The stairs were not easy. It took me a half hour to climb the two flights. When I went in the office, Willa was busy at her desk writing checks to pay bills.
“What are you doing here?” she asked and went back to writing in the check book.
“Got bored at the Amanda Bentworth boarding house and nursing home,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“Paying bills.” This time she didn’t look up. All business, that lady.
“Didn’t you pay bills a couple weeks ago?”
“Funny thing about bills. You pay them and they just come back. Like mowing the lawn or feeding your cat.”
“I don’t mow the lawn, and I don’t have a cat,” I said.
“You don’t pay bills, either. It’s a wonder we’re not both in debtor’s prison.”
“Both? I’m the one not paying bills.”
She shook her head. “One of which is my salary. I’ve been warding off the old bill collector myself.”
I did my best to put on a guilty face, but it didn’t work.
“I’ll be at Amanda’s tomorrow to look after you,” she said.
“I don’t like all this attention. Amanda and you hovering over me, bringing me coffee and food, doing my meds, fluffing my pillow.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
I went in the office. There sat Rodney at a second desk.
“Where did the desk come from?”
“Salvation Army thrift shop. I paid ten bucks for it. They threw the chair in. Getting it up the stairs was the hard part.”
“Tell me about it.”
I sat at my desk and dialed Buford’s number.
“Buford, I’m back in the office. Anything happening with your case?”
I lit my last cigarette ever and tossed the match on the floor. Just because I could.
“Got a continuance,” Buford said. “Maybe two months before I go to trial. I want this thing cleared up by then.”
“I’m working on it. How about if I come see you this afternoon? We’ll kick it around.”
“That would be good. This place is shut down like Fort Knox. I’ll tell the guards to let you through. You still driving that piece of shit station wagon?”
“Yeah. Rodney’s my driver now.”
“I guess you heard. That Captain Pugh won’t be bothering your sister any more.”
That was a surprise. A nice surprise. I couldn’t wait to hear why.
“No, I didn’t hear anything. What happened?”
“In this morning’s paper. Had an accident in his boat. Must have been a leaky fuel line and a short circuit. The boat blew up in the middle of the river.”
“Was he on board?” That would be too good to be true.
“They think so. Somebody had to have sailed it out there. They didn’t find a body. But then, they didn’t find much else either. He’s on the menu. The fish got him.”
I didn’t trust the good news. “Could be maybe it wasn’t an accident?” I said.
“Couldn’t say. But I bet that Penrod murder cop comes to see you about it.”
“He will. I have an alibi. I was imprisoned at my sister’s house. And can’t get around on my own. Shit, I can barely make it to the john without help.”
“Yeah. Convenient, ain’t it? Alibi-wise, that is.”
We hung up, and I told Rodney, “We’re going out this afternoon. But I want to get some lunch first. You can help me down the stairs.”
“You want me to go for carryout?”
“No thanks. And don’t you start mothering me too,” I said as we went past Willa’s desk. “Leave that to your mom. And Grandma Willa here.”
Willa made an audible snort and slammed the checkbook closed.
We left the office and went to the stairway. Rodney supported me with my good arm around his shoulder and his arm around my waist. He held the crutches in his other hand. We hobbled along like conjoined twins and went down the stairs. It took about ten minutes.
We went out the front door, and I looked up and down the street. About a block away was an olive drab Chevy parked on the street.
“Stay with me across the street,” I told Rodney, but I didn’t tell him why. I didn’t think the Army guys would do anything in front of a witness.
But I was sure they were pissed about their beloved Captain getting hit broadside in the face with a shotgun barrel. Not to mention being blown up.
Rodney walked with me across the street and into Ray’s.
“You want lunch?” I asked.
“No. I had my usual,” he said. He turned and headed back across the street.
Some things never change.
I went in and slowly lowered myself into a booth. The lunch crowd had left, so I had the joint to myself. I leaned my crutches against the wall and looked at the menu. Not that I had to, but it gave me something to do.
Bunny came out of the kitchen and stared at me. It took her a while to figure out who I was. She scribbled an order for me, passed it through to the kitchen, and came over to where I was sitting. She looked at me a while before speaking. She had tears in her eyes. Great. Another woman getting all weepy over a few cuts and bruises.
“Stan, what happened?”
“Fell off my skateboard.”
“Were you in the hospital?”
“Yeah. Maybe a week. How do I look?”
“Not good, but better than when you had the hangover.”
I could always count on Bunny to lighten a dark moment.
“Nobody told me you got hurt,” she said. “I wondered why I hadn’t seen you. I’d have come to visit you. You got some place to stay?”
“Yeah, don’t worry.”
I finished breakfast. Bill Penrod came in and sat across from me.
“Willa said you were here. She was right. You do look like shit. Who’s that guy working for you?”
“That’s Rodney. You remember him.”
“Holy shit! The punker? What a difference! How’d you get him to scrub up?”
“His idea. Wants to be a private dick like me.”
“Man, the way you look now, nobody’d want to follow in your footsteps.”
“What’s up, Bill?” As if I didn’t know.
“You hear about the boat that blew up in the river? The boat owned by Captain Jeremy Pugh? The boat upon which said Jeremy Pugh probably died?”
“Yeah. Real shame, isn’t it. I’m all broke up about it. I’ve heard that was a nice boat.”
“You have anything to do with it?”
Of course, he had to ask. Just doing his job.
“Me? Look at me. What could I do? Besides, all my time is accounted for.”
“Maybe, maybe not. The charge could have been set at any time. Could have been detonated from a cell phone. From a sick bed, even.”
On the one hand I was proud that Bill credited me with having the savvy and balls to blow up a boat. On the other hand, I was uncomfortable being a suspect.
“You know me,” I said. “I don’t know shit about explosives. Did you find a detonator?”
“Christ, Stan, we didn’t even find the rudder. That was one hell of a blast. Should have kicked off a tsunami and wiped out the whole fucking town. There wasn’t anything left of the boat.”
“And no body.”
“Right. He hasn’t been seen since it happened. His wife is worried sick.”
“She say anything to you about leaving him?”
“No. Why?”
“That’s what he told Amanda when she threatened to call her.”
“He say why?”