Randy White - Deceived

“What’s new?” Joel said. He was looking at Mica, who was dressed in a suit that might have fit when he was fifteen, standing opposite us at the back of the circle, but a foot taller than everyone but the silver-haired man, so they both stood out. Mica noticed Joel staring and used a handkerchief to wipe his face, the tattoos on Mica’s forearms showing because his jacket was so short.

I said, “You make him nervous,” then asked, “Who’s the man next to him?” and prepared myself finally to hear the name of Loretta’s lover.

“With the gray hair? That’s Harold Chatham, the richest man in Sematee County, maybe the whole west coast. I don’t know why I’m surprised to see him-he was big in politics for a while and knows just about everyone.”

Not as surprised as I was. “Harold?” I said. “His name’s not Arnold ?”

Joel’s jaws flexed in bemusement. “I get the feeling I just burst your bubble somehow. But you’re pretty enough, he’d probably let you call him Arnold or Larry or anything else you wanted.” The smile faded while Joel looked at the man and added, “Yeah, ol’ Harney Chatham loved the ladies-until he found Christ. Supposedly. He owned a marina and car dealerships, then became lieutenant governor-not that anyone remembers lieutenant governors. That was years ago, but he still shakes hands.”

This was Rance the Lance talking, I could have reminded myself, but my mind was busy translating Harold into the nickname Harney . As a child I had heard it as Arnie, so it was all making sense again. But then I had to stop and put it in perspective by thinking, Loretta’s lover was lieutenant governor of Florida? My lord, she must have been good-looking and very…

Sexy was the word, but it made me wince to attach it to my own mother. The concept of her bedding a rich politician was tough enough to grasp.

The minister and attendees were singing “A Closer Walk with Thee” while my eyes found Loretta, a wrinkled bird of a woman who was now chirping out the chorus along with her friends. In old photos she was attractive enough, possibly even shapely-although it was hard to tell because Baptist women were partial to baggy clothes in those days. Even so, Loretta, my mother had suddenly become Loretta the woman in my eyes, and the perverse pride I felt was shameful, but in a delicious way that made me smile.

“What’s going on in that head of yours? They’re not singing that loud.”

Joel, I realized, had said something important. “Sorry, I was thinking about my mother. I should get back to her, we’ve got things to discuss.”

“Well, if it has anything to do with Fisherfolk, that’s what I was just saying. Don’t bother-not after what happened yesterday.”

I was surprised. “You’re firing me because of what someone else did?”

“Don’t be silly. You gave me plenty to work with in no time at all, so you’re my rising star. But you’re done dealing with lowlifes like Mica and Harris Spooner.” Joel moved close enough that I got a whiff of soap but no cologne, which was nice, while he continued, “Spooner is dangerous. Maybe psychotic, I don’t know, but he’s a killer-he killed his ex-wife, but they couldn’t prove it. Might have killed Dwight Helms, too-I’m still working on a time line, but it seems to fit. And I think he’s the guy who chased you. That’s why I stopped by. I got a search warrant issued this morning, and our guys are going through Spooner’s trailer right now. If they find the shark mask or the raincoat, or anything close, they’re arresting him. I wanted to tell you in person.”

“You move fast,” I said.

“In some areas, maybe, but I’m way behind in others.”

I pretended to be unaware of his meaning. “Maybe Mica knows,” I said. “Don’t look at him now, but see how fidgety he is?” Then said, “Hold it a second,” because I had just remembered a point that Joel had missed. “You forgot that the pit bull minded Spooner but not Mica. I told you how it happened. Spooner’s own dogs wouldn’t have attacked him, and he sure wouldn’t have killed one with an axe… would he?”

“ Psychotic , a sociopath -there are so many terms, who knows? Look, Hannah”-Joel was checking his cell-“what I’m saying is, Spooner’s dangerous. I want you to stay close to home because he’s going to blame you. Guys like him, it’s the way their minds work. If we arrest him, no problem. But if we don’t, I don’t want you anywhere near Sematee County, especially Glades City. Got it?” Then Joel said, “Damn, got to go,” and pocketed his phone before giving me the kind of friendly hug people do at funerals, but he added an extra squeeze that squeezed the wind out of me, the man tall and unexpectedly powerful.

“You don’t know your own strength,” I told him, taking a step back.

Joel flashed his Sundance smile and became thoughtful. “Why don’t we have dinner tonight, then I can follow you home to make sure you’re safe.”

I told him that I would be spending the next few nights at Dinkin’s Bay, so the timing, as far as danger was concerned, couldn’t be better.

Joel said, “With your boyfriend? I thought he was out of town.”

Rance the Lance had been snooping again, and I didn’t like it. “If you’re pretending you heard that from me, keep walking. Or you can explain, but it better be good.”

“Now, Hannah-”

“I never said a word about him being gone. Who told you?”

Joel raised his eyebrows to indicate Loretta, then shook his head the way boys do when they’re ashamed. “What can I say? I gave her my cell number. Your mom gets scared sometimes and talkative-but I don’t mind, she’s fun when she gets on a roll. And she thinks the world of you, Hannah. You do know that?”

I couldn’t reply because the minster had just said, “Let us pray,” so I bowed my head, relieved that the funeral was about over. I couldn’t be mad at Loretta, not after my recent revelation, nor Joel either- if he was telling the truth. When the minister had finished, I told Joel, “There’s a dog where I’ll be staying, so I won’t need any extra protection.”

“That temper of yours,” Joel said, looking up from his phone. “I’ve got to watch what I say around you.”

He had just sent a text and didn’t seem so rushed, so I told him, “It’s just that I’m careful about who I see and what I say. Sorry if I overreacted. The women in my family have a bad habit of trusting the wrong men.”

“ Tell me about it,” Joel said, giving it an edge that empathized with my reasons, and I noticed that he glanced at Mica as he spoke.

It wasn’t until I was crossing the parking lot, however, that I realized Joel might have been looking at the former lieutenant governor, not Mica. The thought came into my mind when I saw a black limo, the engine running, parked behind my SUV. Smiling at me from the backseat was Harold “Harney” Chatham.

“Hannah dear,” he said as I approached. “Figure it’s ’bout time we two met. You willing to go for a little ride so we can get acquainted?”

The music of a Southern man’s voice can be bad acid rock or an alluring sonata, and Mr. Chatham spoke with the sweetness of cello strings.

When the chauffeur opened the door, I got in-but only after noting the car’s license number.

I was texting the limo’s license to Birdy, Tomlinson, and Marion Ford as Mr. Chatham told the chauffeur, “Swing us through Sulfur Wells, then we’ll come straight back. Oh-you mind closin’ that glass? The young lady and I want to talk private.”