Corcoran pulled into the parking lot, parked next to Barbara's Tahoe, got out and went inside.
“Honey, I'm home.”
She leaned backwards so that she could look out from the door to the workroom. “Hey you,” she said and grinned.
“Hey you too,” he said and went to see what she was doing.
Everything was laid out on one of the big worktables. A painting - a big pastel, maybe three feet tall and five feet wide. Looked like North Georgia maybe. Steep gully, rocks, pine and cedar and hickory and oak. No underbrush to speak of. The main thing, though, was light. White light in yellow air, piercing the trees in shafts. Lighting the ground in patches. Casting green black shadows. Late afternoon. Breathtakingly beautiful. A frame - massive, ornate, gold leaf. And all the tools she used so well.
“Wow. What's that?”
“It's by a guy from a little place in South Carolina, likes to paint in Georgia, around Tallulah Falls. Does big pieces like this, all about color, all about light. Kind of makes me think of Titian. The owner just got back from up there, saw it in a little gallery in Hartwell. Bought it on the spot, unframed, and brought it straight to me. He wants it NOW. Can't wait. Wants to hang it and then just sit and stare - and I can't say that I blame him.”
“Me neither.”
“Only thing I'm worried about is hanging it. This thing will be heavy. Maybe you could help me?”
“Sure.”
“The problem isn't the effort required to hang it. The problem is that I'm going to have to find a way to mount it to the wall. He says it's plaster over conventional framing. What I'm hoping to do is maybe two quarter-inch carriage bolts, maybe three and a half inches long, drilled exactly in the center of two studs.”
“You do what you got to do, I'll pick it up and hold it. A strong back and a weak mind. That what you need?”
“Exactly. You're perfect for the job.” Up on her toes, she kissed him on the forehead.
He backed off, sat on the table, watched her work.
“How much is that thing worth?”
“I think he paid fifteen hundred. I'm charging him twenty-four for the framing and hanging.”
“Wow.”
“That's what I thought. Seems to me it ought to be worth more than that.”
“Yeah. And it's weird that the framing costs more than the picture.”
“Oh no. That's not uncommon.”
Corcoran thought about it. Then he brought up what had brought him there.
“Baby, I need for you to do something. Don't think you're going to like it but I hope you'll do it for me.”
“Hmmm…There aren't very many things I wouldn't do for you. And very few things I wouldn't ask you to do if I needed them.” She put the tools down, turned, leaned back against the table. “What you got?”
“I want you to do whatever you have to do to be able to go away for a little while. Couple of weeks? Maybe a month? Don't want you to do it right away, and maybe not at all - but I need for you to get ready to do it in an instant.”
“Where? And when?”
“Somewhere no-one would think of. Maybe the next few days, maybe a week or two, maybe not at all. And you better plan on taking Sam.”
“Okay. Will you be telling me why?”
“We'll talk before you go. If you have to go. Oh, and something else… Not a word that would let anybody know where you're headed. They can't reach you. You'll call them.”
“Okay. You'd better go on, I've got LOTS of work I'll have to do. As soon as I get this job done I'll get on the phone and start making arrangements. Maybe we can go hang this tonight.” She turned back to the table.
“Corky?”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to get hurt?”
He straightened up, stepped to her, put his arms around her from behind, hugged her close. “No Baby. No. I love you way too much to let them hurt me.”
~ ~ ~ ~
“You back already Mistah Corky? Is you read John 3:16?”
“Preacher, I'll tell you what. I'll read it. I'll read it tonight. No, I'll get Barbara to read it to me - she can tell me what it means. And then, if I do that, you'll stop this stuff and let me be?”
“Mistah Corky, you knows better than that.” Big grin. “But I'll promise you this: when He tells me to stop, I will.”
“You do what you got to do old man, but you're wasting your time and mine. Your Jesus don't want me.”
“John 3:16 Mistah Corky, John 3:16.”
Corcoran stepped inside. A nod to Bobby Reams and over to his desk. He took out Davis' card, picked up the phone and pushed the buttons.
“Homicide. Travis.”
“Hi, I'm trying to reach Jim Davis.”
“I got your number on the Caller ID. I'll get him and he'll call you back. Probably less than five. He's in with the boss but he'll get loose quick as he can.”
“Thank you.”
Corcoran hung up the phone, sat back, got ready to wait.
The phone rang.
“Jim?”
“Yeah. Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah. No problem. But I got some basic stuff.”
“Let me get a piece of paper… Go ahead.”
“Marco Santiago. Crew boss. His boys run numbers in Ybor City. Came to Tampa from Cincinnati about the same time as Waters. That's all I got on him so far. That, and the fact that he's interested in me.”
“Say what?”
“Yeah. Asking around.”
“You stirred something up.”
“No. Not that. All I've done so far is talk to Bobby Reams. In private. At the office. And Bobby ain't said nuthin to nobody. Got to be about my visits with Vernon.”
“Hey man. That's not good. That's really not good.”
“Yeah. That's what I was thinking. I think maybe Barbara needs to take a little vacation.”
“Yeah. Good idea. Doesn't have to be today - they'll come after you first. Won't bother her unless you turn out to be a problem.”
“Well, yeah. But what about this? What if it ain't me? What if it's Sam?”
“Aha. Hadn't thought about that. But why?”
“Well, turns out our little buddy is sportin' body art.”
“A tattoo?”
“Inside his thigh. And you have to either bathe him or brush the fur back to find it.”
“It's not a heart with 'Mother' across it is it?”
“Ready?”
“Go.”
“4L23-3R5-2L57-R.”
Davis read it back.
“Yeah, that's it.”
“Got any idea what it's about?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay, I'm going to get on the Ohio thing, see what I can get. You make Barbara safe. And Sam too - I think he's probably evidence.
“And, by the way, I was supposed to find out all about him. Well, you now know a lot more than I do. All I know is that he wasn’t here when our boy moved in. Showed up about a week later. Came from the local Humane Society. I haven’t found any veterinary records.”
“Alright, Barbara and Sam are outta here soon as she can deal with the details. She's got a business up here you know.”
“No. I didn't know that. What does she do.”
“She's got an art gallery and book store. Makes more money off of framing art than anything else. Good business. I just hope this doesn't damage that. She really loves it - and she's good at it.”
“I can put you both under protection if you like.”
Corcoran laughed.
Davis nodded. “Okay, I guess you're right. If it's the mob, the Sarasota Police wouldn't even slow them down.”
“No problem. Remember, I'm not all bound up by rules like you guys are. And I ain't as nice as most folks.”
“You got that first one right. And yeah, thinking back to what I've heard, the second one might be right too. Anyway, take care. I'll let you know what I find out from Ohio.
~ ~ ~ ~
Barbara drove, Corcoran rode shotgun. They were in the Tahoe, the painting in the back. Headed for one of the last of the private homes on Bayshore overlooking the bay. Barbara pointed it out as they drove by - brick and wrought-iron fence, a classic southern mansion, white columns, chandeliers across the front on both the porch and balcony, rocking chairs, a vast expanse of lawn, old spreading oaks, magnolias. She turned at the next corner, making her way around and to the back. They pulled up to a gate.
She handed him a key-card.
Corcoran hopped out, went to the gate, swiped the key-card through a reader. The gates swung inward. Barbara drove the Tahoe through and waited. She could see Corcoran in the mirror, a look of confusion, uncertainty. He walked up to her window, looking back at the gates.
“It ate the card.”
She laughed so hard she choked. Caught her breath, chuckled, looked up at him. She tried to stop but, when the pressure got too great, she roared. After a minute, with lots of snuffling and sniffing and choking sounds, she said, “I'm sorry baby. If you could have just seen yourself. You were so confused. Like a little boy finding a baby bunny and an eggshell. And then, when I started laughing, you swole up like a rooster having his prostate checked. I'm sorry. I really am. It's supposed to do that. Eat your card like that. You get one shot. That doesn't work, you have to call.”
Corcoran continued to swell, looking as though the doc was getting carried away with the exam. Then, seeing himself in his mind's eye, he broke up too. They both laughed until tears were running down their cheeks. He fell down, plop, into a sitting position. She tried to hold it in, pounded on the steering wheel.
He put his hands down on the grass, started to stand up, lost his footing and went back down.
Both of them started again. Laughing, whooping, giggling. She took out a Kleenex, blew her nose. Took out another and handed it to him. Both struggled to get it back together.
Corcoran got up, made his way around the truck, opened the door and dropped into the seat. Neither looked at the other. Then they looked up and at each other - and here they went again.
Finally they got it under control. Barbara pulled up into a gravel parking area. They got out of the truck, opened the back,
A security guard came out of the house, stopped and propped the back door open with a rock. Came towards the pair.
“We've got it.” Barbara said as she and Corcoran lifted the painting out of the Tahoe and started for the door. “You could grab that toolbox if you like.”
The guard picked up the box, turned around and trotted back to the door, kicked the rock out of the way and held the door open for them. “Just keep going straight ahead, I'll show you where it goes.” He let the door swing shut.
“Mister Jeffrey showed me where he want's it. He's got a meeting going on. I told him you were here. He's all excited but he can't come down right now. Here, let me by.” He opened another door and held it.
They entered what was obviously the main hallway. Several doors and doorways down each side.
“Second on your left.”
They worked through the doorway, set the painting down and looked things over.
Walls covered with a deep maroon flocked fabric. Leather seating, overstuffed. A bar at one end, fireplace at the other. A full twenty feet of bookshelves, loaded down with everything from old leather bindings to worn paperbacks. Several paintings on the opposite wall, with one big open space.
“Yep. That's the place. He said to center it in the space between the doorframe and the corner and between the floor and the ceiling.”
They went to work. The guard headed back into the hall, “I'll leave you with it, just come back the same way you came in. I'll be in the little room just before the door.”
The job took a while, Barbara doing most of the work, Corcoran doing what he was told, staying out of the way and keeping quiet. Finished, they picked up their tools and headed to the back.
They came to the door. There, in the little room to their right, was the guard, taking a tape out of a VCR. They saw a bank of TV screens. The guard came out, handed the tape to Barbara. “Mister Jeffrey asked me to copy this for you. There's a camera and microphone out at the gate.” He grinned.
Barbara's mouth fell open, Corcoran's too. “Oh no. Oh dear.” Her eyes got big. She looked at her partner. “Corky? Oh no. Oh dear.”
Corcoran looked sheepishly down at the floor. Then back up. He looked the guard straight in the eye. “Thank you. And please tell Mister Jeffrey that we thank him too.”
“I'll tell him. I'll watch you guys out and open the gate for you. And thanks for the fun.”
Barbara's cheeks turned pink. Corcoran laughed out loud.
Back into the Tahoe and off. They headed home.
Corcoran was the first to speak. “Let's stop and pick up a couple of smoked mullet, okay? A couple of beers? Turn around and go have a picnic at the pier?”
“Cool. We can do that.” She turned the truck around, headed back down Bayshore to Gandy. Turned on Gandy. Down towards the bridge to a little stand. Corcoran got out and bought the mullet. Back towards Ballast Point. A quick stop at a convenience store.
They got to the pier, turned onto the gravel and parked beneath a tree. Got out and carried the fish and beer over to a concrete table in the grass. Barbara unwrapped the fish, made plates out of the paper. Opened the beers. Went back and got a roll of paper towels out of the truck.
They started eating. Fingers only. Dig into the flesh, get a piece, pop it into your mouth. Chew, swallow, sip the beer.
Corcoran spoke around a bite of fish. “Don't get no better than this best I can tell.”
Barbara took a sip and nodded. “Mmmm.”
“I talked to Jim today.”
“Oh. He okay?”
“Oh yes. He's fine. But we talked it over and we're both agreed, you'd better go ahead and go. Just in case.”
“Okay. I started making calls today. You know where Elberton is? In Georgia?”
“No.”
“North of Augusta, South of Toccoa. There's a lake there. Big time lake. A little camp ground and the guy's also got some single-wide trailers he rents out by the week. He likes dogs too.”
“Sounds nice.”
“I'll go tomorrow and buy a boat. Found it today in the paper. Little fourteen-foot aluminum boat with a Mercury nine-point-nine on the back. And a trolling motor and trailer. The whole thing for fifteen-hundred bucks. Sam and I can fish up a storm, come back and sell it and get every penny back.”
“Sam likes to fish?”
“Oh yes, we talked about it at length. Okay, I talked, but he wagged his tail a lot.”
“Cool. Truth is I didn't even know you liked to fish.”
“Oh Corky, if I could have my way that's all I'd ever do.”
“You know, this might be fun. You go get established. I'll come visit.”
She handed him a paper towel. “Wipe your face, I want to kiss you.”
He wiped; she kissed.
“Barbara, I got to get you to do something else for me.”
“If I can.”
“Preacher made me promise to read something out of the Bible. Or to get you to read it to me. You got your Bible here?”
“It's in the truck. What do you need read?”
“John three something. Sixteen? Does that mean anything?”
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
“Do it again.”
She did.
“What does it mean?”
“Oh dear. So much. Here. Short and sweet. You come to believe down deep inside, down in your gut, that Jesus was who he said he was - the actual son of God - and you will go to heaven when your body dies.”
“Barbara, that doesn't make sense. Lots of ways. It don't make sense.”
“Why? What part?”
“Well, first of all the believing part. Why would I believe something like that?”
“Corky, there are lots of human reasons and one Godly reason. We can talk about the human reasons sometime if you want to but it all comes down to the Godly reason. When he gets ready for you, he'll bring you to it. That's probably what's happening right now.
“You're a runner Corky. Bobby wants a guy brought in, you bring him in. Right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, God's got a guy like you. The Holy Spirit. When God wants a guy brought in, the Holy Spirit hunts him down and brings him in. But there's a catch.”
“A catch?”
“Uh-huh. He'll get your attention. And he'll guide you. But you have to make the final decision. You have to do it of your own free-will.”
“Hmmm.”
“Think of it like this. You know, as far down inside as you can get, I love you. Right?”
“Oh yes.”
“So what if you had kidnapped me and made me say I loved you? What if it was your idea, not mine? You'd have to watch me every minute. And, even if you thought I'd come to love you, you couldn't really trust me. You with me?”
“I think so.”
“You trust me don't you? I'm here because I want to be. And I'm not going anywhere. That's just how it is… You like it like that?”
“Yes.”
“Well he does too. That's what he wants from you, and, if you give him that, he'll adopt you and you can live with him forever.
“Corky, am I making any sense. Am I helping you at all?”
“Well, you told me what it said. And you explained it very well. But when is this Holy Spirit supposed to do his thing? And how? And how will I know?”
“Corky, I don't know when. That's up to him. But you wouldn't be asking if the time weren't pretty near. And how? Nobody knows but him. And how will you know? Baby, don't worry about it; you'll know.”
“Okay”
He slid his hand softly up the inside of her thigh. “Will I still be able to do this?”
“Oh yes. Only it will be even better.”
“And this?”
“Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.”
They got up from the picnic table, went to the truck. Corcoran reached inside, took out a blanket. They walked together, further into the park, into the darkness of the night.
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