Randy White: Seduced

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. The governor’s problems always started way south of his heart. We was both that way, God help us. That’s why he had that thingamabob installed. I knew we was playing with fire but couldn’t stop myself.”

Rather than endure further details, I offered to make a pitcher of sweet tea. My mother rocked and stared.

“Earthly pleasures are a trap, Hannah. Chastity might seem its own punishment-until you accept a man from the spirit world. That’s when our behavior is supposed to change. Oh, I knew what I was doing.”

There is often no making sense of her babbling. I hugged my mother close as she cried, her shoulders bird-like. “I’ll call the home health nurse and have her come early. Or would you rather I have the ladies come keep you company?”

I was referring to Loretta’s friends from childhood, Epsey Hendry, Becky Darwin, and Jody Summerlin-all widows. Once a week, they would gather on the porch, with cookies, or a pie or brownies, and wait for the church shuttle to carry them to bingo.

There would be no bingo on this Friday night.

I gave her another hug, called Becky Darwin without explaining why she was needed, then went inside to check on Reggie. In the hall, I stopped out of respect. He was weeping, but in an angry way, and speaking in low tones to his former employer. Eavesdropping is not something I normally do, yet what I heard was so unexpected, I found myself drawn toward the open door.

I heard the chauffeur mutter, “Where the hell is the damn shutoff valve? I ain’t gettin’ paid to put my hands on your… no, I ain’t. I warned you, Governor-by god, I warned you-now here we are. And who gonna explain this to that bitch you married if I can’t…? Shit fire! How’s this damn contraption work?”

I peeked in and wished I hadn’t. Mr. Chatham was faceup, no sheet over him, and his Stetson was on the floor. I’m not sure what I said-more of a gasp, I suppose-which caused Reggie to swing around and say, “I told him what would happen if a man his age got an implant, Miz Hannah. And takin’ them damn blue pills of his, too. Please”-this was said with urgent deference-“we got to leak the air out of this damn thing and get the governor home before his wife finds out he’s gone.”

Again, I am uncertain of my response-another gasp, no doubt, albeit indignant, and something about waiting for the EMTs.

Reggie, who had tended to his employer’s secrets for more than forty years, replied, “The governor ain’t leaving here in an ambulance, and”-he motioned for emphasis-“he ain’t going home lookin’ like that. What would people think?”

What Loretta had termed a thingamabob was, indeed, a startling image to behold. Not that my eyes lingered. There is a sad, clinical starkness to an old man who lay as if staked to the bed by a porcine rod through his hips. A wicked thought darted through my mind regarding my mother, who, even in my childhood, had often walked around with a dazed expression on her face.

I backed into the hall. “What are you suggesting, Reggie? We can’t move a dead body. That’s against the law.”

“The governor never cared nothing about the law. It’s what he’d want.”

“Are you telling me the ambulance isn’t coming?”

The little man ignored that.

I said, “We should call Joel Ransler. He’s an attorney.”

He was also Mr. Chatham’s illegitimate son by yet another mistress.

Reggie shook his head while leaning over the dead man. “Joel wouldn’t help. Those two ain’t shared a word since the fool almost got you killed. Besides, Joel moved to Jamaica for the winter-which proves he is a dang fool.”

“We can’t do this on our own,” I said.

“Why not? There weren’t nothing about transporting dead clients on the chauffeur’s test. Doubt if the topic was mentioned in your captain’s test, neither. Transportin’ folks is what folks like you and me are paid to do.” Reggie’s back was to me, a blessed screen from the explorations of his searching, uncertain hands.

“I’m not just a fishing guide,” I argued. “My Uncle Jake’s investigation agency is still doing business, and I’m licensed by the state. I took an oath, for heaven’s sake.”

Reggie, bending closer, replied, “Where the hell the doctors hide that thing? I’m running out of places.”

I left the room, confirmed that Loretta was still on the porch, a rocking catatonic, then returned with my mind made up. “We’re not moving him and that’s that,” I said. “I’d risk my license.”

The little man’s reply was a muffled question, which might have been a request for a flashlight.

“A what?”

“You can look now. I pulled a blanket over the both of us, but the lighting ain’t good. Try the wall switch.”

“No! I’m warning you, you can’t do this. It’s crazy. We have to contact the authorities.”

“Don’t pick at me so, Miz Hannah. Please. We can’t let the governor be found in this condition. The coroner’s gonna take one look and know what killed him. You ever met the governor’s new wife? There’d be hell to pay, there purely would.”

This was said with sinister implications, and a hint of fear.

“You don’t really think a doctor would blame Loretta for-”

“How else you gonna explain it?” Reggie asked, then exclaimed, “Hey-found it, I think. Hear that hissing? But don’t ask me where the air’s goin’.”

I peeked to see the little man exit what appeared to be a makeshift tent. He stood, bowed his head for a moment, then pulled the blanket over his former employer’s face. “Gonna miss you, you ol’ fool, I surely am,” he murmured, then focused his red, watery eyes on me. “Miz Hannah, you telling me you ain’t willing to keep a secret for an old friend like the governor? And with your mama’s reputation at stake?”

“I’m bonded by the state of Florida,” was all I could think to say. I was shaken by the chauffeur’s sadness, and the prospect of Loretta somehow being dragged into this mess.

“What about if’n the governor was your client? In ol’ Jake’s agency. Was there something in that oath you took about protecting a client’s privacy rights? I expect there was. Confidentiality -that’s the word the governor always liked to use when reminding me to keep my mouth shut.”

The wiry little man accurately interpreted my reluctance to speak. “Then it’s true.”

“Even if Mr. Chatham had hired me as a private investigator, I’d have to check with an attorney. Do you realize how crazy it is, what you’re suggesting?”

“You could pretend he’d hired you. Only us two would know.”

“Me knowing is one too many,” I countered.

“You are a stubborn woman, Miz Hannah. We got to hurry and get this thing done. Please… take this”-he produced car keys and some crumpled dollar bills from his pocket-“This’ll make it all legal. The governor’s good for whatever else we owe.”

“I can’t take your money.”

“You already did,” Reggie said, and gently squeezed the bills and the keys into my hands. “You’re working for me now, and here’s what your new client wants you to do. While I get him dressed, you pull the Lincoln up close to the rear of the house and open every door on that car. And not a word to nobody.”

The little man’s rheumy red eyes sharpened. “Doesn’t that sound better than the governor and your mama making headlines on the television news?”

We had crossed the Sematee county line and were into citrus-and-cattle country when, from a dirt road, a sheriff’s vehicle, green on white, appeared in the rearview mirror, and came up fast, until it was a car length behind.