Looking For An Honest Man Chapters 7 & 8

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Chapter 7

Located near the corner of Fifth and Delaware on the east side of the street, there was nothing fancy about Harold’s Top Hat. Samantha swung open the front door and walked inside. At night a bouncer sat at the front door asking for identification and collecting a five-dollar cover charge from men, which Samantha could never understand. Why would guys pay five-dollars to squeeze into a bar that had a small dance floor in the back and no live music so they could watch women freestyle to canned music. Wally called it a meat market. Samantha frequented it occasionally when a friend wanted to go. The last time she went by herself she got in trouble—big trouble.

“Hey, Larry.” Wally waved at the tall, skinny bartender with the wavy brown hair.

Larry held his lips in a tight pucker as he busily dried glasses. They saved the good-looking bartenders for the night shift, Samantha thought.

“Hey, Wally. This business or pleasure?”

“It ain’t business, but I don’t call eating the food here a pleasure.”

“I’m with you man. You and the lady want something to drink besides ice tea?”

“Yeah. Give me a Corona and she’ll take the house wine—white.”

Harold’s Top Hat looked naked during the day. Ugly white metal ceiling fans pushed stale air while cheap light fixtures with colored bulbs and metal shades hung between each fan to bathe the small cocktail tables in a myriad of colors. The usual neon beer signs hung on the walls. Samantha couldn’t imagine why she came here alone two weeks ago. Wally was right. Harold’s Top Hat was nothing but a meat market.

“Where do you order something to eat?” she asked.

Wally called to the bartender.

“Hey, Larry, you taking the orders today?”

Larry brought the drinks to the table. Samantha noticed that Larry’s white shirt had breakfast on the front, his pants hung low on his hips and acne covered his pallid face. He had a small tuft of hair on his chin.

Please Larry, she thought, don’t lose your pants. If your pants fall down, I’ll hurl.

Larry cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Beatrice! You got two out here.”

“Coming!” she yelled back. “Give me two minutes.” Samantha glimpsed Beatrice at the kitchen door hugging a cell phone to her ear. A large, black woman with short, curly hair and long dangling earrings, Beatrice did not appear to be in a good mood. “What do you mean you couldn’t come home last night…”

Beatrice disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Sorry about that,” Larry offered, but Wally waved it off.

“Sit down for a sec, Larry. My friend has some questions she wants to ask.”

Larry looked warily at Samantha while he wiped his hands on the rag hanging on his shoulder.

“What kind of questions?” he asked.

Wally reached over and pulled out a chair for Larry to sit down.

“Sit down, Larry. Sam ain’t going to hurt you.”

“She a cop?” Larry asked. Wally indicated that Samantha wasn’t a cop. “A lawyer?”

“I sell real estate,” Samantha said.

“I ain’t got no money,” he said starting to stand up.

Wally’s large hand clasped Larry by the shoulder and pulled him back down.

“Sit down, Larry!”

Larry’s anxious eyes darted between Wally and Samantha.

“The man I’m looking for has short blonde hair, wears a suit, so I believe he is a professional, and is slightly overweight. He has real pale skin with freckles all over his slightly bent nose. You know, as though he’s been in one fight too many. There is a scar on his left cheek that runs from the corner of his left eye to the corner of his mouth.”

“Don’t know him.” Larry didn’t hesitate and started to leave.

Samantha leaned forward.

“You sure?”

Larry drummed his fingers on the table and shook his head.

“Two groups come in this bar. Daytime and nighttime and never the two meet. The daytime crowd is older, drink mostly beer and that’s when we sell sandwiches. At night, the crowd orders drinks and appetizers: a younger crowd looking for encounters. You should come back at five-thirty when Johnny comes on board. He may know the guy.”

Larry stood up, adjusted the towel on his shoulder and walked back to the bar.

“Well, you want to come back tonight?” Wally asked.

“We’ll see. I’m supposed to go to my mother’s house tonight for dinner.” She thought for a second and reached for his hand. “You want to come?”

“Sure, it will be good to see your mom. I haven’t seen her in a long time.” Wally clasped his hands together and rested them on the table. “Sam, when are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Samantha looked away, but she couldn’t hide her watering eyes.

“I did something stupid, Wally.”

Wally’s huge hand cupped her chin and gently turned her head to face him.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

Samantha crumpled and almost fell out of her chair. Wally caught her and pulled her to his lap. The tears poured down her cheeks as their eyes met, causing Samantha to bury her head on his shoulder and cry even harder.

“I’ve done something stupid, Wally, and I don’t know what to do.”

“What have you done that is so stupid?” he asked softly.

Her hands pushed against his chest until she looked directly in his eyes. She could smell the blend of Old Spice aftershave and his morning coffee. Gazing into Wally’s eyes reminded Samantha of the ads to save the baby seals - they held no secrets. She knew that Wally loved her, and she wished that she could return that love, but she couldn’t—at least not yet. At the same time, she couldn’t let him go. Wally the anchor, she’d tell herself. He was always there for her.

“I got drunk, and someone raped me,” she whispered, fighting back the tears. “I think it was the guy I’m looking for.”

Wally frowned and pushed her away.

“What!” he exclaimed.

 “I think someone raped me,” she whispered, placing a hand on his lips.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m okay physically,” she answered.

“What does that have to do with the Top Hat?” he asked. “And you’re still on the pill, right?”

He reached over to pick up a napkin for her to blow her nose.

Samantha took the napkin and made an awful honking sound. She balled the napkin tightly in her hand and for once, she couldn’t face him.

 “About two weeks ago, I came to the Top Hat by myself.  My doctor had taken me off the pill for a month. I was lonely that night. You were out of town visiting your sister and my mother was off with Gretchen. I met this guy I described to you. He was big, like you are, and I guess I substituted him for you. Anyway, to make a long story short, he bought me a drink, and the next thing I remember is waking up with a policeman wrapping on my car window to see if I was okay.”

“Where was that?” Wally asked.

She took a deep breath.

“The same place we parked today. The only problem was that I was half-naked.”

They were quiet for a moment. Wally pounded his fist on the table.

“He gave you something,” he said.

“I can’t prove anything,” she said.

“Did you go to the police?”

Samantha held the napkins to her nose and blew.

“No,” she said weakly through the tears.

“Do you think you’re pregnant?” Wally asked.

“No, I took the morning after pill to be safe,” she said, burying her face in Wally’s shoulder.

“After dinner tonight, we’ll come back to the Top Hat,” he said.

Chapter 8

Olivia pulled the rolled chicken breasts out of the oven and placed them on the counter beside a cast iron skillet filled with potatoes, butter and fennel. The potatoes were a golden brown and soft and creamy inside. The crisp brown breasts had a thin line of goat cheese mixed with oregano seeping from the edges where a string held them together. The smells blended, and Olivia found a gnawing hunger for the first time in months. Samantha had promised to bring a dessert, so Olivia only had to make a salad. The wall clock in the living room chimed five o’clock; time for the early evening news. Wiping her hands on her apron, Olivia ran into the living room and picked up the remote. A weather map flashed across the screen.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, and quickly changed the channel.

A young woman reporter stood in a wooded area with police cars, an ambulance behind her. Yellow police tape fluttered in the wind that cordoned off an area behind the reporter. Olivia realized that the sound was muted. She pressed a button and caught the reporter in mid-sentence.

 “… the break came in earlier today from an anonymous tip. The police have had over one thousand tips since the disappearance of Vickie Taylor, but for some reason, they took this one seriously and put it at the top of their list to checkout. I spoke with detective Ed Hines earlier.”

The screen flashed, and an older detective joined the young reporter. He was vaguely familiar to Olivia. She’d seen him recently on the news discussing his thirty years on the police force. Bright silver hair and a face that reminded her of a bulldog. She got the impression that he was the type of person who didn’t give up easily.

“I have to give the guys on the hotline the kudos for this one. They get a lot of tips, and they know when to call us when they have a live one.”

“What was different about this tip compared to others they received?” the reporter asked.

“I don’t know exactly. This one didn’t seem like a nut case. In fact, the caller was nervous and wanted off the line”

“Do you think there is a connection between this woman—it was a woman I understand-- and the murder of Vickie Taylor?”

Olivia’s head flew back at the reporter’s question. Did they think that she had anything to do with this girl’s disappearance?

“Don’t know. I’d really like to talk to her.”

“Did this woman know the exact location of the body?” the reporter asked.

The detective stroked his chin and thought for a second.

 “She didn’t give the exact location, but her description on how to find the body was pretty precise.”

The reporter shoved the microphone closer.

“What did she tell you, Detective Hines?”

Detective Hines shook his head and smiled.

“That’s all I’m saying for now.”

He turned and walked away.

The young reporter turned back to the camera and Olivia turned the television off. Sitting down on the edge of the sofa, a cold, empty feeling crept through her. Did they think that she might have something to do with Vickie Taylor’s disappearance? She hadn’t given her name to the hotline, but would they look in their records and get her telephone number?

Ring!

Her cell phone’s loud ring made her jump. With a trembling hand she pulled it from her apron and stared at the caller id - unknown. She pushed the call button and lifted the phone slowly to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Mother, Wally and I are on our way. I hope you don’t mind my inviting him to have dinner with us. We are running late, but we should be there in thirty minutes.”

Olivia heaved a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness. The caller id said an unknown caller. I didn’t know who it was. And yes, it’s okay for Wally to join us.”

 “I’m using Wally’s business phone because mine needs charging.” Samantha didn’t say anything for a second. “Mother, are you okay? You’ve sounded funny all day. Why are you so jumpy about caller id? We all get phone calls like that?”

Olivia held her hand to her throat as if struggling to breathe.

 “I’m fine, Samantha. I need to go and put dinner back in the oven to keep warm.”

Olivia hung up over Samantha’s protests and held the cell phone tightly in her hand. She didn’t move. The sun had moved further west, filling the living room with its warmth. She gazed at the rays shining through the patio door and the fine cloud of dust caught in the beams of light. She walked across the room to close the drapes. Her eyes stared vacantly into the distance. Vulnerable was the only word she could think of to describe how she felt at the moment. She had laid herself bare to some unknown voice over the phone, and now she questioned the confidentiality of her call. The living room felt claustrophobic and began to close in on her. She opened the patio door and rushed outside to inhale large gulps of air.

Her world had changed so fast in so short period of time. Will’s declaration of love for his associate came just days after they’d spent a romantic weekend in a small bed and breakfast in Weston, Missouri. After the scenic drives, wonderful meals and leisurely, devilish times in bed, he dropped the bomb two days later. The next day he’d left. The loss of husband, home, and life had been hard for her to take as she neared her sixtieth birthday. Just as she was starting to get back on her feet, Vickie Taylor entered her life. What scared Olivia about the vision of Vickie Taylor was she didn’t seem to have any control over when and where it could happen.  Olivia didn’t realize how long she’d stood on the balcony until Samantha’s voice shattered her thoughts.

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