Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 04 - Any Port in a Storm (20 page)

“You hear that anywhere?” he asked.

I hesitated.
“I don’t want anyone to get in trouble.”

“I don’t have time to arrest people for smoking a joint,” Morehouse said.

“One of the homeless guys said he thought he’d seen him selling some, maybe. He was surprised you never talked to him.”

“Well I’ll be damned.
Which one?”

I shook my head.

“You ain’t a priest, Jolie.”

“I know, but it won’t be hard for you to figure out.
I really don’t want to repeat what I think was a confidence.”

He glowered at me.
“If I talk to those two guys who were at your fundraiser thing would that be a good place to start?”

I nodded.

“You think that little Alicia was helping him sell?” Morehouse asked.

“Definitely not,” I said.

He looked amused. “Why not?”

“Because she told Scoobie she never smoked any.
She talks to him pretty easily.”

“Humph.
Doesn’t mean she didn’t find kids to buy,” he said. “The thing is, I can’t figure out why he came here, why he stayed. It don’t make sense, him wanting to hang out with kids that young.”

“What about his uncle?” I asked.

“What about him?”

I shrugged, and thought fast.
“When I went to their house…”

“Another smart move,” Morehouse said.

“…I thought Hayden’s sister looked like someone who was very sad, but her husband struck me as, I don’t know, somebody who didn’t give a damn.”

“Why would you say that?” he asked.

“I can’t put my finger on it. I would have expected him to show more grief. I think I heard Hayden had lived with them recently.”

Morehouse’s expression was shrewd.
“What have you been up to?”

“Nothing!
You asked me to come down here, you know.”

“Yeah, but why do you pinpoint the uncle?” he asked.

“Well, if Hayden really did sell pot, he had to get it from somewhere. I made a guess.”

He stared at me for a couple of seconds.
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. You should know,” he paused, “that we are pretty convinced that you didn’t kill him.”

I felt my stomach unknot.
“I’m glad. Why?”

“Among other reasons, because the mallet was wiped clean of prints.
A lot of people would have used it to pound in the stakes for the pirate ship game. Only an idiot would wipe it clean and put it in their own car trunk.”

“Thanks for that ringing endorsement,” I said, dryly.

He ignored me. “The other reason is that it seems that he had to have been hit by someone a lot taller than you.”

“That seems like something you might have been able to tell earlier,” I said, careful not to sound accusatory.

“He had a couple head injuries, in the same area of the skull. It seems, and we can’t be sure, that he was hit with the mallet and fell onto one of the stakes that anchored the plywood ship to the ground.”

“So, it could have been an accident?
I mean, someone meant to hit him but not kill him?” I asked.

He shrugged.
“Maybe. Anyway, it’s hard to be sure that’s how it happened, but that’s what it looks like. You woulda had to stand on a step stool to get the angle where he was probably hit.”

I thought about this for a few seconds and mused aloud.
“Who hates me enough to put that mallet in my car?”

“Yeah, well, the key word is enough,” he said.

“Very funny.”

“Sergeant.”
Dana stood in the doorway. “Harry Steele is out there. He wants to know if Jolie is free to leave.”

“What, you thought I was gonna arrest you or something?” Morehouse looked almost amused.

“I didn’t, Harry’s worried about me.” I looked at him without smiling. “Not everybody hates me enough to put a murder weapon in my trunk.”

I DID FEEL a lot better, but I couldn’t stop thinking about why someone picked the trunk of my car to hide the mallet. And I still thought Hayden and his uncle picked Ocean Alley for him to ‘find new markets’ because Joe Pedone’s sister, whom I’d never even seen, hated me for tangling with her brother.
What difference does it make?

This was the question Scoobie and George asked when we three and Ramona met at Newhart’s for supper.

“Even I can answer that,” Ramona said.

We all looked at her.

“If Hayden did come here looking to annoy Jolie, who’s to say someone else won’t come?
And there’s still the mallet. Somebody here put it in her trunk.”

“And somebody tried to run me off the road,” I added.

“Yeah, I don’t like that,” Scoobie said.

“Me either,” George and I said together.

Scoobie looked amused.

“What am I missing?” Ramona asked.

“Ask them,” Scoobie said.

Ramona looked at me and I blushed.

“What? You weren’t going to tell me?” she almost screeched.

“Gee, Ramona,” George said, “all we did was hold hands.”

“So why aren’t you now?” she asked.

“I don’t want to ruin George’s reputation,” I said.

“It’s the other way around,” Scoobie said.

She took in the three of us.
“I don’t think it’s very nice that you all knew and I didn’t.”

“Honest, Ramona, that’s why we’re all here,” I said.

She looked less hurt and George looked surprised, but fortunately Ramona didn’t notice.

“So, now what?” she asked.

“Change the subject,” George said.

“I didn’t mean
that,
I meant what about the mallet person? What should we do?” she asked.

“I think there’s been plenty of time for whoever it is to pull another stunt, and they haven’t,” I said.
“I still want to know who it is, but I’m going to try to stop thinking about it.”

“Right,” Scoobie said.

“You are locking your car door at night?” Ramona asked.

“Yes, Mother,” I said.

“One good thing,” George said, “is that Morehouse or somebody called the paper. We’re running a short piece tomorrow saying there is not much more about who killed Hayden, but it’ll talk about how the person must have been a lot taller, and stronger, than Jolie.”

“They never actually named me, did they?” I asked.

“No, but there was a lot of talk, because people saw you looked mad at him at Talk Like a Pirate Day and at the dinner.”

“And there’s Elmira,” Ramona said.

I DID LIKE the article in Tuesday’s
Ocean Alley Press
. As in the earlier article, it did not name me, but said that the police firmly believed that the mallet had been placed in the trunk of “a local business woman’s car” to throw them off. It also mentioned Hayden’s earlier arrests, something that had not been detailed in earlier articles. To me the implication was clear — the murderer could have been a thug who knew him.

I was in the courthouse looking up comparable sales for some of the houses Harry had visited.
He came up with this idea so I could make some money while people weren’t sure if I should be in their houses. I hoped today’s article got rid of that attitude. And the wrongful death lawsuit.

The register of deeds stopped me on the way out.
“They really should have said you definitely didn’t do it.” She patted me on the arm. “I know you didn’t,” she said, “but not everyone agrees with me.”

Back to the doldrums.
I left the courthouse making every effort to hold my head high, though it did strain my neck a bit. I drove over to the popsicle district to take exterior photos of the homes I thought were good comparables, and who should be putting up a for sale sign at one of the homes but Lester.

“Hey, Jolie.
Good article today.”

“Finally.”
I shut my car door. “Can you wait a second to put the sign up? I want to take a picture.”

“Using it as a comp?” he asked, as he put the sign on the sidewalk.

“Yep.” I took several shots and stowed my camera in my purse. “Thanks.” I started to turn to go back to my car.

“Gimme a second,” Lester said.

I had hoped to make a quick getaway. He pounded the sign into the ground, wiped his hands on his pants, and then walked toward me. Lester waved the mallet. “Look familiar?” He barked his usual laugh.

“Not funny,” I said.

“I hear Morehouse is questioning some of the homeless guys,” Lester said.

The last thing I wanted was for Lester to think I knew something about this.
“Seems odd they’d do that now,” I said.

“Yeah, it does.
I could be wrong. The fast-talking one…”

“Max,” I said.

“Yeah. He was outside Java Jolt this morning, all upset. He said…”

“You mean Josh wasn’t with him?” I asked, already opening my car door.

“That’s what I was getting at,” Lester said. “Where you going?”

I rolled down my window.
“To find Max.”

I figured I’d start at Java Jolt, and kept one foot on the brake and the other on the accelerator as I drove toward the boardwalk.
Don’t these slow pokes know I’m in a hurry?

I parked and walked quickly up the steps to the boardwalk.
Max was on a bench just outside Java Jolt, looking forlorn. It struck me how much older his body was than his mind, or at least his mind as it seems to work now. He had on a pair of cutoff jeans and a loose-fitting tee shirt, and was hunched over, his hands folded in front of him, staring at the boardwalk.

He looked up when he saw my feet getting closer.
“You can fix it, right, Jolie?” he asked.

He didn’t stand, and I realized he had probably been crying.
“I don’t think you have to worry about Josh,” I said.

“I thought the police liked us now,” he said.

“I think they do. They probably want Josh to help.”

“They shouldn’t have made him get in their car,” he said.

“Did he, uh, have handcuffs?” I asked.

Max shook his head.
“They said I could go too, but I don’t like police cars. They’re too much like…” He stopped.

I thought maybe he was thinking of a military vehicle, but wasn’t about to ask.
“Is Josh going to meet you here?”

“Maybe.”
He frowned. “I forget what he said.”

I looked up and saw Joe Regan looking out the window of Java Jolt.
He gave me a thumbs-up.

Max followed my gaze.
“Joe told me to wait here. Wait here for Josh, and he’d keep an eye on me.”

I could have kissed Joe.

“I’ll sit with you for a bit.
You want some coffee, Max?”

He brightened.
“Hot chocolate. Josh says I don’t need a lot of caffeine.”

He’s right there.

I brought him the hot chocolate, which Joe would not let me pay for, and sat next to Max. “Pretty soon it’ll be colder,” I said.

He nodded as he blew over his steaming cup.
“Josh said maybe we can stay here this winter. Stay here and keep warm.”

“Really?
That would be great.” I wondered where they’d get the money.

“Josh took me to the VA Outreach Center.
They’re going to give me some money every month. Every month. And maybe Josh too, for being my…” He frowned slightly.

“Um, caregiver?” I asked.

“Yeah, but Josh told them he was my friend, not my caregiver. My friend. They said he can call himself whatever he likes.”

I laughed.
“He is a good friend.”

“Max!”

He and I looked up. Josh was walking quickly down the boardwalk.

“Hey, Josh,” I said.

He ignored me. “Max, next time you need to stick with me.”

“I don’t like it.
And Jolie bought me chocolate.” He held up his cup.

“Thanks,” Josh said, finally looking at me.

“Max said Joe Regan said he should sit here ‘til you came back.”

“I’ll have to thank him.” He glanced toward the coffee shop, but Joe was not at the window.
He looked back at Max and then at me, and sat next to Max on the bench. “People are good to us here,” he said.

“And we might be indoors for the winter,” Max said.

“He told me you were helping him get some benefits,” I said to Josh.

He nodded.
“It’s ridiculous he hasn’t had them. Now that I know more about the VA I’ve been pushing them.”

“I liked the Budget Inn,” Max said.
“You did, too, right?” he said to Josh.