Mike Jastrzebski - Key Lime Blues

“What do you mean?”

And so I told her about Destiny. I told her our client was dead, and I told her about Bob and Willie, and finally I told her about Tanya.

“I like her, Wes. She’s got spunk.”

“She might be involved in this whole thing.”

“I don’t think so. Call it woman’s intuition. Do you want me to stick around?”

I shook my head no. The last thing I needed was someone else to worry about, but there was something more I needed from her and I wasn’t sure how she was going to react.

“I need a favor, mother.”

She furled her brow and gazed at me across her coffee cup. I sat and waited. The next move was hers and I was glad when she said, “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I want you to put an investigator on Myron Stewart. I want to know about his past, his relationship with his wife and daughter. Was she his birth daughter or was she adopted? Any information they can dig up on him.”

My mother looked at me like I was crazy. “Let me get this straight. You want me to re-open the Stewart case on a whim?”

“It’s more than a whim. Some information came my way. I want it checked out.”

“So where did this information come from?”

I hated to lie to my mother, but if I was a skeptic, my mother was the queen of cynics. I didn’t even want to think about how she would react if I told her my informant was a phobic psychic. I decided a little fabrication was necessary.

“I got a call from a source back in Detroit this morning. He said he met someone who was friends with the gardener.”

“What’s this guy’s name?”

“Mother, I’m not going to tell you who it is. I promised him anonymity.”

She finished her coffee and digested what I was saying. “If I go ahead with this, will it get rid of all this guilt shit?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

There was more silence. “Will you come back to work?”

“No.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“How about if you do it because I’m your son.”

She smiled. “How about if you come back to work because I’m your mother.”

“I don’t want to talk about coming back to work,” I said.

“And I don’t want to re-open that case.”

Stalemate. There was only one way I was going to get what I wanted and we both knew it. “All right,” I said. “We’ll talk. When this case is over, I’ll fly back to Detroit and we’ll talk about anything you want to talk about. But I’m not promising to come back to work.”

My mother stood and picked up her purse. “All I’ve ever asked is that you keep an open mind. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days and you can let me know when you can fly back.”

I nodded and she turned and left. She knew enough to quit while she was ahead. It didn’t really matter. I knew I wasn’t going to change my mind, whether I was here or back in Detroit.

It was time to pay Elvis another visit. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the sky remained gray. I nearly stepped on a baby chick running along the sidewalk trying to catch up with its mother. I’d been told the city once hired a bird catcher to rid the island of its flock. It wasn’t long before the locals and visitors alike rose up against the idea, and the bird catcher was no more.

It was a few minutes past noon when I arrived at Elvis’s house. Dom was standing at the top of the stairs. Unlike my first visit when he met me in formal attire, he was now dressed island casual; khaki pants, a short-sleeved pink dress shirt that pulled across his massive chest and Nike running shoes without socks.

“Morning Dom.”

He smiled. “Elvis is waiting for you.”

“Quite the psychic.” I felt bad the moment I said it. I knew from my previous visit that my tongue-in-cheek attitude about Elvis upset Dom.

I winced when Dom’s body stiffened and his smile turned to a frown. “Why do you do that?”

“I’m sorry.” I turned my eyes away the giant of a man standing in front of me and felt myself blush. I had spoken without thinking and now I’d hurt Dom’s feelings. All for no other reason than I was having a shitty couple of days. He didn’t deserve it.

“You shouldn’t make fun of Mister Elvis,” Dom said. “He hasn’t done anything to you. He’s only trying to help.”

There was no doubt in my mind Dom believed Elvis was the real thing. In my defense, private investigators tend to be skeptics by nature. Not only don’t I believe in psychics. I don’t believe in ghosts, UFO’s or the abominable snowman. I couldn’t help how I felt or what I believed. Still, I should at least take Dom’s beliefs into consideration when I spoke to him.

“Dom,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I’ve taken part in two investigations involving psychics. In both cases, the only thing those so called psychics were interested in was relieving my clients of as much money as they could.”

“Mister Elvis is different. He tries to help people.”

“He doesn’t work for free, Dom,” I said. “He takes money from people who are in too much pain to think straight. Do you believe that’s right?”

“Everybody needs money to live. I’ve seen people who have come wallowing in desperation walk out of here with a smile on their face after talking with Elvis. Is that so wrong?”

“Dom, it would take a miracle to convince me Elvis, or anyone else for that matter, has real psychic abilities. I think it’s wrong to try and convince people you can do and see things that are impossible.”

“Then why are you here, Mister Darling?”

“Good question. Maybe your boss can tell us.”

I could read the disappointment on Dom’s face. He turned away from me and stepped back into the house. “Follow me,” he said.

Elvis was seated behind his desk when we walked in. He was wiping his hands with a tissue and didn’t look up for several moments. Nothing had changed since my previous visit. The desk held the same crystal ball, the same deck of cards, and the same box of tissues. Elvis was also dressed like before, same suit, same shirt, and same tie.

Elvis folded the tissue and dropped it into the wastebasket before looking up. His shoulders were slumped and his face was deeply lined, almost as if he were in pain. He appeared to be less sure of himself than the last time I’d seen him. I almost felt sorry for the guy.

“You can leave us, Dom. Wes, please have a seat.” He pointed to the leather armchair across from him and waited until Dom was gone before adding, “I was afraid you wouldn’t come. The last time we met you made it clear you didn’t hold a very high opinion of me or my craft.”

“Cat said you talked to Destiny and had some information for me.”

“You’re talking about Gail?”

“They’re one and the same,” I said.

“She was here last night and again this morning. Yesterday she wanted to know if she needed to worry about someone named Frankie. Today, you were all she could talk about. She claims you stole something from her and she wanted to know if you were going to return what you took.”

“What did you tell her?”

Elvis leaned forward and made a sad attempt to smile. “I told her the truth, Wes. I said you couldn’t give them back.”

“Why would you tell her that?”

“It is true, isn’t it? You did give the diamonds to the police, right?”

I felt a tingling along the back of my neck, like a poisonous spider had bitten me and the venom was spreading. There was no way he could know about the diamonds. I was afraid that if Destiny knew I didn’t have them, she would hurt or even kill Tanya.

“You told her that?”

Elvis shook his head. “No. I did tell her she should stay away from you, and that she wasn’t going to get the diamonds back. I assumed they were diamonds, since that’s what you asked me about yesterday.”