Captains Outrageous

23

Two days later we had Charlie’s funeral. It was a simple one. No church or preacher was involved. He wouldn’t have liked that. His body was cremated and services were held at a community center. It was packed. Friends. Relatives and cops. Mostly cops. Jake was among them. He said to me, “I got a feeling more and more that I don’t know all I know about this thing. Get me?”

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

“Hap, don’t get caught. Whatever you’re doin’, don’t get caught. Whoever did this to Charlie, if you’re after the sonofabitch, I hope you succeed. But you break a law and I know about it, you know what I got to do.”

“I do. But I don’t intend to break any laws. I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, right,” Jake said.

One at a time, people got up and told things about Charlie. Stories. Incidents. Or just expressed their feelings. I was included. I said: “Charlie was a good friend. He died badly, but I know he died as bravely as is humanly possible. His killer will be found.”

I didn’t go as far as to say how he would be found. That was still a card to play, and only Leonard, Brett, and John had seen it.

Jim Bob Luke showed for the funeral. He got up and said a few words. Then Leonard.

Hanson was last, and the best. He had known Charlie the longest, had worked with him closely when they were both on the police department.

Hanson was in his motorized wheelchair. He rode it to a place beside the podium where everyone else had stood and talked. Charlie’s porkpie hat was in his lap. Hanson’s wife, Rachel, a striking black woman in a purple dress, took the microphone off the podium and gave it to him.

Hanson held the microphone for a while, as if he might not actually speak. Then he said, “Charlie Blank was the friend everyone wanted, and if he was your friend, you were proud of it. He made you proud of yourself. Figured a guy like Charlie liked you, you had to be all right. He was a simple guy. Loved his friends. Was a wonderful cop. He loved the smell of a woman’s hair. Told me that many times. He liked dogs and hated cats. In many ways, he saved my life. He made me know it was worth living after my accident. He’s helped me with my physical therapy, and he listened to me whine about how life wasn’t worth living, and he convinced me it was worth living. I thank him for that. Right now, even with what happened to Charlie, I’m very convinced it’s worth living again.

“He loved Wal-Mart. He was a nut for Wal-mart. And before Wal-Mart, Kmart. He was shattered when the Kmart folded. He was depressed for days, had a hard time shifting his loyalty to Wal-Mart, but when he did, he did it wholeheartedly.

“He liked porkpie hats. In fact, I have his here. I’m going to start wearing it. I always wanted to anyway. I thought Charlie looked cool in it. I was too embarrassed to let him know. Instead, I made fun of him. From now on, I’ll wear his hat. He liked Hawaiian shirts. The gaudier the better. He liked tennis shoes and Dr. Scholl’s shoes, which he bought at Wal-Mart, and he wore a pair of one or the other every day of his life. He did jogging, played basketball, he had on those tennis shoes or Dr. Scholl’s. He went to a wedding or a funeral, he had them on. Me, Hap Collins, Leonard Pine, and God bless her, Brett Sawyer, all wore black, tie-up Dr. Scholl’s today in his honor. We love you, Charlie. We’ll never forget you.”

Hanson put the porkpie on and Rachel wheeled him away.

We had a small get-together at John’s house. Me and Brett. Leonard and John, of course. Hanson and Jim Bob. John fixed hot tea for all of us.

Hanson said, “Well, what are we going to do about this?”

“You too?” I said.

“Been thinking about things,” Hanson said.

“I have plans,” I said. “Sort of.”

“Then that means Leonard has plans too,” Hanson said.

“That’s right,” Leonard said.

“They won’t be very smart plans,” Jim Bob said. “No offense, but from my time with you guys, I’d say you’re as dogged as pit bulls, but about as smart as two slices of bologna rubbing together on dry bread.”

“Thanks,” Leonard said. “Nothing like a good compliment. You’re lucky you got slack with me for saving Hap’s ass that time. Otherwise, a remark like that I’d have to see if you bounced.”

Jim Bob grinned. “What you’d find is that I not only bounce. I bounce back.”

“Ooooeeeeee,” Leonard said. “Now my nuts are suckin’ up. You are so scary.”

“What I’m sayin’ is it’s what I do,” Jim Bob said. “Detecting. And making things happen. What you and Hap do is fuck things up.”

“There’s a certain truth to that,” I said.

“Motherfucker did this, is about as mean as a rattlesnake with a stick up its ass,” Jim Bob said. “And he’s big enough to pull a building down on us. What you need is someone like me knows how to sniff this shit out. You want him found, I’m your man.”

“That’s true,” Hanson said. “Me and Charlie were going to pick Jim Bob’s brain to start our investigations business. He’s the best.”

I thought he probably was, and so did Leonard. But there was some kind of macho shit between them, and Leonard wasn’t eager to give Jim Bob credit for much. Not and like it. I think it had something to do with Jim Bob saving me that time. Leonard may have thought that was his job and he slacked on me. Then again, maybe he was just disappointed he didn’t have it to hold over my head.

“Hot tea, anyone?” John said.

“Christ, enough with the tea, already,” Leonard said. “I’m floatin’ in the stuff.”

“I’m nervous,” John said.

“Plan I got is this,” Jim Bob said. “You folks set tight. I’ll make a little trip to Mexico. Do some investigating. I have a friend or two down there. They’re in the detecting business too. Mexican. Both of them. They know where all the bodies are buried. Maybe me and them can dig up the ones we need. In the meantime, might I suggest you folks stay close and stay ready. We don’t know for sure this behemoth has gone home. He may be waiting for another chance. He may know he didn’t get the right person. If we’re lucky, he went back to Mexico thinking he did what he needed to do. Or he may have just gone back anyway and plans to come back and finish the job. We’ll have to find out.”

“Who says Mexico is his home?” Hanson said.

“Wouldn’t it be?” Brett asked.

“Hanson’s right,” Jim Bob said. “Assume nothing. That’s the first rule of good detecting. And always wear clean underwear in case you have a wreck. Mother told me that. I’ve tried to live by it.”

“Have a bad enough wreck,” Brett said, “you can bet even clean underwear will fill up.”

Jim Bob wrinkled his brows. “You know, I hadn’t even considered that.”