Randy White - Shark River

I felt my stomach muscles tense when Deputy Walker said, “Sorry to interrupt, but I thought it might save you some time. This woman says she saw the whole thing. Found us and volunteered herself. Says she was standing right out there at the edge of the mangroves, close enough to see and hear it all. Her name’s… Ransom Ebanks? Is that correct, miss? That’s an unusual name, particularly considering the circumstances.”

The black woman nodded. “May be unusual to you but it ain’t to me. Ransom R. Ebanks, that always been my name.”

“Ms. Ebanks says she came here to do some sightseeing, just over from the islands, and walked right into the middle of the kidnapping. She eyeballed at least three of the perps, saw this guy, too. But that’s all she’d tell us until Doctor Ford was present.”

Ebanks, why was that name familiar? I remembered Tomlinson telling me someone by that name had contacted the office and left a message for me. But why? I’d never met her before in my life, and now here she was. I tried to keep my expression bland and amused as Waldman looked from me to the woman, then back to me. “Is that true, Ms. Ebanks? You witnessed the kidnapping attempt?”

Her soft, articulate accent seemed to add credulity. “Oh, that’s the natural truth alright. I saw the big man there, watched what he did, runnin’ from those men in the masks while they shot their guns.”

Waldman pointed his finger at me. “This is the man you saw?”

She nodded.

“Why wouldn’t you tell Deputy Walker what you saw unless Doctor Ford was present?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, Ransom Ebanks locked her eyes into mine, trying to communicate something, but what she was communicating, I wasn’t immediately certain. I expected her eyes to be dark but, in the porch light, they were a glittering, lucent blue. Quite a surprise looking into her African face, seeing those blue eyes. Their focus seemed intense, meaningful.

Was she waiting for me to say something first? Perhaps. Or maybe that’s what I wanted to believe. Even so, I spoke quickly. “Probably because she wanted to make certain I was the guy she saw cut his arm when I fell through the railing and took the two women with me.”

“Hey! That’s enough.” Walker took a step toward me, showing her no-bullshit cop expression. “He’s leading her, telling her what to say.”

The Bahamian woman’s tone was suddenly just as tough. “He ain’t leading nobody, lady. You quiet your mouth for a second, I tell you what happened.”

Waldman said soothingly, “Now, now, let’s stay calm, do this in an orderly fashion. It’s getting late, we’re all a little tired. Ms. Ebanks? Take your time. You say you saw Doctor Ford running while the men shot at him?”

I listened to her say, “Isn’t that what I just tell you? Yes, the big man, the man standing right there with the bandage on his arm. What happened was, he so scared, he went and run away. First, he fall into the water, him and the two pretty girls. When that railing break? Then he jumped into that go-fast boat and man, he gone.”

Waldman didn’t seem convinced. “Really? You say the men were shooting at him while this man… you actually saw this man get away in the boat.”

“That’s right. I saw ’im.”

“Why didn’t you run away, Ms. Ebanks? A man his size was frightened; why weren’t you afraid?”

“’Cause the men with the guns, they didn’t see me. I back in the trees watching.”

Waldman was still suspicious. “In the trees, okay. You just stood there watching while they shot. How many shots were fired? Any idea?”

“Four, maybe five. I don’t know. I was watching with my eyes, not countin’ with my ears.”

“Not counting with your ears. Very amusing. Okay, they began to shoot at him. Then-take us through it step by step-after they started shooting, what happened?”

She was still staring into my eyes, trying to read something from me. Finally, she said, “He bang into the two pretty girls, like I tol’ you, and he so big the railing break and they go splashing in the water. That how he cut his arm. Musta hit the dock or somethin’, I’m guessing.”

Deputy Walker said, “That’s what he just told her to say. He was leading her, like I said.”

Waldman gave her a warning look. Then to Ransom Ebanks: “You saw him cut his arm on the dock? No offense, miss, but how can you be so sure one of the bullets didn’t hit him when the men were shooting? You say you did see them fire shots.”

She was nodding, suddenly very self assured. “ ’Cause I saw just the way it happened, that’s why I’m so sure. He went kinda trippin’ and stumblin’, holding them two women, and they all went crashing through the railing. That’s where I saw him catch that arm on a nail or something-I can’t be sure what it was, but the blood was flying. Then I watched them women run away into the trees while he go flyin’ off in the boat.”

“Was he alone in the boat?”

“That somethin’ I don’t know. But tell me this, Mr. Police-man. This gentleman”-she used her hand to indicate me-“does he look so dumb to you that he just stand around while men’s shooting at him?”

Then she laughed, showing pearl-white teeth, but her eyes were still focused on mine.

It suddenly became clear to me, the meaning of the direct eye contact and her intense expression. While she lied to the cops, she was also speaking nonverbally, looking through the lenses of my eyes, saying, You owe me.

T he Bahamian woman said, “You actin’ like it don’t hurt none, man. Like it no big deal. Almost like you used to getting shot, my brother.”

What my ears heard was: Yoo actin’ lie it doan huurt nawn, mon. Lie it no big dill…

An accent that fit her physiology. Look at the cinnamon skin, the bone structure, the braided hair, the gaudy golden ring on her right hand, and you saw twenty generations stylized by coconut palms, coral islands in a remote sea, and the patina of isolated British influence on African rootstock.

She was what? Probably in her mid-to-late thirties, but looked much younger, which is why I’d misjudged her age so badly the first time I saw her. Maybe forty, judging from the fine lines on the backs of her hands and at the corners of her eyes. A middle-aged woman, but very fit and in control of her body.

The cops were gone. Waldman had listened to her story patiently, asked a few questions, then said, since it was so late, would Ms. Ebanks be willing to give them an official statement in the morning?

She told him, “Yeah, man, but I got no place to sleep out here tonight. Maybe you ask the people at the fancy restaurant, up on the hill, they give me a free dinner and a place to stay, seein’s how I’m agreeing to help you. Get me a nice room with fancy pillows, but I’d like the bed be pointed north, you doan mind. That the only way a person get his directions in a foreign land. Sleep w’his head pointed north.”

She was a negotiator, maybe a manipulator, that much was becoming clear. The island girl wheedling herself some space among the rich Americans, already knowing how to do it, but seemingly unaware of how obvious she was and how naive she came off. Speaking of superstition as if to educate others.

It didn’t seem to bother Tomlinson at all, though. She’d already impressed him-that was easy enough to read. When he’s interested in a woman, his face assumes a concerned, spiritual glaze that attempts, but fails, to camouflage carnal interest.

“Ms. Ebanks,” he said, “you are most welcome to stay in the guest room of my cottage. We’ll point the bed any way you want. And food, well… let’s see, the restaurant’s already closed, but I can fix you a late supper. A nice Camembert with red wine? Or I’ll throw a salad together, spinach, asparagus and tomatoes. Put some music on, pound some alcohol, or-you’re from the islands?-we can burn something herbal, whatever you like.”