The Night Watchman (28 page)
63
“P
UT THAT IN THE CORNER
,” I said to Crevis, whose arms were loaded down with two cardboard boxes.
I swiveled around in my new chair, the aroma of fresh leather tickling my nose. I was surprised we found an office space on Colonial Drive for as cheaply as we did, especially with the view. My window faced the entrance to the Amway Arena, home of the Orlando Magic. It should be interesting on game nights.
The bustling downtown traffic roared by my window, and the LYNX city buses' brakes squealed by on a regular basis. We'd get used to the noise, but it did add a certain flair to the whole venture. This was a good place; I could feel it. The lettering on the window of our new front door said The Night Watchman Detective Agency I hired a guy to airbrush our logo below the words: a man with a cane. A rather nifty symbol, if I do say so myself.
Crevis checked his look in the mirror on the wall next to the front door. He couldn't pass the thing without gawking at himself He wore a dark suit, coat, and tie, with a black fedora I just bought him. I don't think he'd ever worn new clothes before. He slid his hand down the rim of his hat, a full-toothed smile crossing his face.
He strutted over to my desk and brushed his coat back, revealing the private-investigator badge clipped to his belt. The image of an ugly red-headed Humphrey Bogart came to mind. I didn't tell Crevis that I had already purchased his 9mm as a gift for when he passed his carry-concealed permit class.
“Crevis Creighton, Private Eye,”
he said in a not-too-bad Bogey imitation. “How does that sound?”
“Frightening,” I said. “For the bad guys, anyway.”
“What do you need now, boss?” he said. “I've got everything at the apartment finished and loaded most of the stuff here.”
“Why don't you run and get us some lunch?” I eased out my wallet and slipped him a few bucks. Whatever else could be said about Crevis, he wasn't afraid of hard work.
“I'll be right back. Then we can start snooping around somewhere. Can we pull someone's trash tonight?”
“We'll see.” I chuckled.
“I got the rest of my stuff out of my dad's house today,” Crevis said. “He still thinks I'm an idiot for doing this, you know.”
“Crevis, don't believe the nonsense your father or anyone else tells you. You're honorable and brave, and you have the heart of a tiger. I'll teach you everything I know, and when you're ready, I'll help you get into the academy. You're gonna make a great cop someday.”
“I'll give you my best, Ray.”
“I know you will.”
“I still don't write so good,” he said. “So I don't know what I'm gonna do about reports.”
I took the digital recorder from my top pocket and slid it across the table. “Just narrate into this whatever you do on a case. I'll transcribe it for you. That shouldn't be too hard.”
“I can do that.” Crevis slipped the recorder into his pocket, then headed out the door. He checked his look in the mirror again.
“And quit staring into that mirror before you break it and give us all seven years of bad luck.” I couldn't let him get too cocky. He chuckled and tipped his hat to me.
He opened the door to head out as Pam entered our office carrying a large manila envelope.
“You look handsome in that suit, Crevis.” She smiled. His face turned redder than his hair before he hurried out the door.
“So what brings a fundamentalist schoolmarm to a private investigator's office?” I steepled my fingers and twirled a bit in the chair. “You have a case you need solved?”
“I've been practicing something I wanted to share with you.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Be patient with me as I give this a try.” She cleared her throat. “Here goes: Ray Quinn is a really nice guy.”
“Very good. You didn't stutter, laugh, or pass out. I think you're getting that whole bluffing thing down. You pulled that off like a pro.”
“I've been working on it for a couple of days,” she said. “I thought you'd appreciate it.”
“I do.”
“Are you holding up okay?” she said. “It's been a crazy couple of weeks. I've been praying for you every day.”
I checked my watch. “You've been here all of thirty seconds, and you're already beating me down with the God-stuff.”
“God's doing something in your life, Ray. I just want you to find His peace,” she said. “Do you really believe everything that's happened is just a coincidence? You're a logical man, so can you really deny the obvious—God's hand was over this investigation the entire time?”
“I will give you that it certainly has been an unusual set of circumstances that brought us together and that the cases intertwined.” I raised a finger, keeping her from a fundamentalist rant. “But that's it. I'm not sold on this God-in-control thing. It'll take a lot more than just one good case to convince me of anything.”
“Oh really?” Pam placed her hands on her hips. “Do you have any leads on the mysterious witness from your shooting? The one who—”
“I know who you're talking about.” I cut her off again. “I have a couple of ideas I'm working on.”
“Let me know when you find out,” she said with the annoying grin she has when she thinks she has you.
“You'll be the first to know,” I said. She would be, but I had to do a lot more sorting out of my life before I got to any of that.
“I have something else for you.” She handed me the envelope. The label read Department of Children & Families.
“What's this?”
“Your foster- and group-home records.”
“How in the world did you find them? This stuff is supposed to be sealed and nearly impossible to get ahold of.”
“You're not the only one with contacts,” she said. “Since you wouldn't let me pay you anything, I wanted to do something for you. Maybe this can help you answer some questions about your birth parents… when and if you're ready.”
I held the thick folder in my hand, not sure if I wanted to tear it open or not. I should have just let Pam pay me when I had the chance.
“Thank you, Ray Quinn. I'll never forget what you've done for me and David's ministry.” She seemed like she had something else to say, but she stopped herself. We traded some awkward looks. “I have to go.” She smiled and hurried out the door.
As she left the office, a sadness overtook me that I didn't quite expect. I was starting to enjoy seeing her every day and didn't like the thought of having Pam out of my life forever. An idea passed through my melon: maybe I could call her later in the week for lunch…to go over more details and cleanup on David's case, of course. Not a bad plan.
I opened my desk drawer and slipped the envelope into the Open Cases file. I wasn't quite ready to break the seal on that case yet and wasn't sure if I ever would be.
I took a seat on my bar stool underneath a muggy Florida skyline. My Sudoku book kept me company as I hoped to knock down a few puzzles before I called it a night. I'd spent most of the day putting together a business plan for the Night Watchman Detective Agency. It had a nice sound, and in spite of how insane of an idea it was, I was excited about getting started.
“Mr. Ray,” Hector called from the other end of the complex. “We fixed the pool, no? Maybe you can swim now? Get some good exercise for your leg.”
“I might take a dip sometime, Hector. Maybe tomorrow if I get a chance.”
He waved and stepped back into his apartment.
I ambled to the edge of pool, its glistening waters a foreign sight for me—pure, clean, clear, absent of any gooey debris. An antiseptic chlorine smell permeated the air, the stinky bog mist gone forever.
The light reflected through the translucent pool, tiny ripples shimmering on the surface as the pumped churned away. I took out a nickel and prepared to pitch it in for old time's sake. As I went to flick it, I decided against it. I need every nickel I had now. I pocketed it again.
I had met with Helga earlier in the morning. She informed me that my leg was probably as good as it would ever get and that she'd brought me as far as she could. Helga's real name was Jennifer, and she was a graduate student at the University of Central Florida, studying to be a full-time physical therapist.
We talked for a while after she finished. Jennifer said she wanted to help people like me get mobility back after an injury. I bought her a card, something with flowers and a nice saying on it; I can't remember. I think she really appreciated it. Maybe I've been hanging out with Pam too much.
Crevis and I were scheduled later to take in a movie that I hadn't seen in a couple of years:
The Quiet Man
. A good film that was a bit of a departure for John, and one I hadn't had on my top shelf until recently. The Duke portrays Irish-American boxer Sean Thornton, who walks away from the fight game after accidentally killing a man in the ring. In an attempt to resuscitate his crumbling life, he travels back to Ireland, the home of his youth, searching for a new direction in life. He falls in love with Maureen O'Hara and trades punches with her brother in one of the better fight scenes committed to the big screen. Good stuff. I might even microwave some popcorn for this one.
I wondered about Tim Porter's prophecy and what he had said about God not being finished with me yet. As much as I enjoyed giving Pam grief about God, I couldn't ignore some of the “coincidences” in this case and in my life. And, as she'd so aptly put it, I had yet to identify the witness to my shooting, the one who knelt down and comforted me. My ideas would have to wait until I'd put some order in other areas first.
Soaking in the refreshing air, I meandered back to my bar stool. Not much had actually changed in my life. In spite of me finding her killer, Trisha was still gone—a cavernous void in my life that I didn't think could ever be filled. I wasn't a cop anymore and had come to the place where I could admit that I would never be one again. I was submerged in debt the size of the gross national product of a small country. And my body would remain a wrecked vessel for the rest of my life. My leg throbbed and cried out to me to rendezvous with Jim later, the pain at its peak. Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't.
But something else seemed to be at work in me as well. In spite of all these things, for the first time in over a year, I looked forward to waking up in the morning. I couldn't help wondering that when Pam put her hand on my shoulder and prayed for my healing, maybe, just maybe, her prayers had hit their mark.
READERS GUIDE
What purpose does Ray Quinn's sharp sarcasm serve for him? How does he use it to his advantage? How does it harm him?
Both Pam and Ray have suffered staggering losses in their lives, but Pam keeps her faith while Ray remains agnostic. What is Ray's objection to a loving God? Have you heard those same objections from others? Why is Pam able to stay strong in her faith?
Ray is suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and severe depression. How do these affect Ray's relationships with others? Do you know someone who suffers from either of these conditions? If so, how does that affect your relationship with him or her?
Why was Ray so reluctant to help Pam at first? And why did he eventually agree?
What is Pam's motivation for asking Ray to reinvestigate the case? Is it more than just clearing her brother's name?
Why does Crevis desire to become a police officer? What does that say about his life? And why is he so loyal to Ray?
How does Mario's addiction to pornography hamper the investigation? Do you know people who have or are struggling with this? How has it adversely affected their lives?
Once Ray discovers his shooting and Trisha's death were linked to David Hendricks's murder, why doesn't he turn the case over to the authorities? What does he hope to accomplish by solving it himself?
Oscar and Ray's friendship goes back many years. What does Oscar do early in the story to try to help Ray? Why is Oscar so angry with him later? Describe a time when you've been angry with someone you were trying to help.
God's purpose in each of our lives is a major theme throughout the story. By the end of
The Night Watchman
, does Ray begin to see a larger purpose for himself? Did you?
