Bud said. He was in love with the word. I imagined he drove some people at the precinct crazy. Maybe it was why he was no longer in Knoxville. Still, he seemed to have a good grasp of what had transpired.
“And then I started thinking about the car pulling away and later Mary came to me convinced it was murder. I guess she told you her reasons?”
I nodded. He was winding down.
“So for Mary I did some checking and could find nothing to support murder. He certainly had been drinking. The history was there and everyone was convinced it was an accident. If it was murder it was well concealed and there were no leads.”
He paused again. “But, it could have been an accident.”
“Did the coroner’s report confirm the broken neck?”
“Yes. And head injury consistent with being thrown from the car.”
We sat in silence and drank our lattes and watched one very well built young lady pass by on the sidewalk not far from our table and smiled that knowing smile at each other that only men can share.
“Why did you leave Knoxville?” I asked.
“Change of scenery.”
“Politics?”
He started to say “exactly” but caught himself.
“Politics,” he nodded.
I returned to the Residence Inn to find Sandy hard at work trying to balance her checkbook. I had witnessed this scenario before. I knew enough to keep quiet so I tiptoed to the couch with the latest Spenser novel and sat down to read. I occasionally heard “shit” or “damn” and then I heard a rather loud scream.
I buried my head deeper in my book and tried to look inconspicuous. It didn’t work. I felt Sandy sit down beside me. I looked up. She was wearing that expression I had seen before, a sweet, sexy, helpless look.
“I need help,” she purred.
“No way.”
“Please,” she pleaded.
The “please” was dripping with female seductiveness. I was destined to cave in but I wanted to put up a good fight.
“How long has it been since you balanced that thing?”
“A couple of months,” she said weakly.
“Couple of months!”
“Help me do this and there will be a reward for you after,” she said, rubbing up against me. I had to bite my tongue to keep a straight face. She knew she had me.
With as much seriousness as I could muster I asked, “What reward?”
“Use your imagination,” she whispered close to my ear.
“I have a very active imagination,” I said.
“I know. So do I.”
“Then let’s take a look at this checkbook of yours.”
We stayed in the Big Easy the entire week, finally leaving the following Sunday. Each day after Tuesday we decided to stay “one more day” until Sandy finally said she had to go home. I felt like we were on our honeymoon rather than what it was, a final fling. We made love twice a day in every conceivable way. We walked every block of the French Quarter and I felt like we stopped in every store. We spent hours at the flea market. I say we when I really mean Sandy. I was just tagging along enjoying watching her delighting in all the things to see, to touch, to decide upon. Every night we picked out a different, but equally famous, French Quarter restaurant and had exquisite meals. We talked about everything except the move and what was to become of us. Sunday came all too soon.
On the flight home, Sandy was staring out the window apparently lost in thought.
“Good time?” I asked. She turned toward me.
“A very good time,” she smiled. It was a sad smile. “I love you, Don,” she added and waited for a response. Caught off guard, I had none. I was totally unprepared. She smiled the sad smile and turned away looking out the window once again.
We landed at Tri-Cities Airport shortly after four o’clock. Since we had not planned on staying a week, we had packed for only a few days. Luckily for Sandy, when she packed for a few days she had enough for a week. I, on the other hand, had had to do some laundry at the hotel. I carried my bag off the plane and went to get the Pathfinder while Sandy went to baggage claim to claim the wheeled suitcase that I jokingly called the moving van. I picked her up at curbside and we rode in silence back to Mountain Center.
I parked in front of her building. We took the elevator to her third floor unit and I wheeled Sandy’s suitcase to her front door while she searched for her keys. She opened the door, wheeled in the suitcase and stood in the doorway. She took a step forward and put her arms around me and buried her head in my chest. I held her for what seemed like an eternity. Finally she let go and stepped back.
“I had a great time,” she said. “I’ll talk to you before I leave.” She turned and went inside and closed the door.
I stood there for a few moments and looked at her condo door with a sense of utter confusion. I turned reluctantly and went back to the Pathfinder and drove to my own parking space. I went inside and called Billy and told him I was back. In a few minutes he showed up with Jake, who did his welcome home dance for me.
“How was New Orleans?” Billy asked.
“Great!”
“Learn anything?”
“Hard to tell.”
I filled him in on my conversation with Hoffman.
“So he’s suspicious but he can’t put his finger on anything,” Billy said.
“That’s about it, Chief. What have you been up to?”
“I checked all the limo services and private cars in the area to see if I could turn up a lead. Nothing.”
“I had another idea on the plane back,” I said. “Private charters or rentals. Check all the small airports. We might get lucky.”
“No luck involved,” Billy smiled. “Crack investigating.”
“I’ve got to go to the gym,” I said, heading to the bedroom to change. “I think I ate half of New Orleans. Want to join me?”
Billy and I were in Moto’s for almost an hour before we uttered another word toward each other. We had finished with the weights and were in the side room with the speed bag and the heavy bag. Billy was holding the heavy bag for me and I was pounding away. I normally worked on the speed bag because the heavy bag hurt my wrists, but tonight I felt like hitting something substantial. I was working hard and the sweat was pouring. Anger and frustration were flowing through my punches. I had
