The Whistler

23

Lacy was back in the office full-time, and while her presence raised spirits somewhat, Hugo’s absence was still a gaping hole. She and Geismar kept most of the details to themselves, but there was now an accepted belief that his death was more than a tragic accident. For a tiny agency, the mysterious death of one of its own was unsettling. No one at BJC had ever considered their jobs dangerous.

Though her movements were slow and her head was still covered with a growing collection of scarves, albeit fashionable ones, Lacy was a delight to be around and an inspiration to her colleagues. She was regaining her strength and working longer hours.

Two days after serving the complaint on Claudia McDover, Lacy was at her desk when she received a call from Edgar Killebrew. Pompous even on the phone, he began with a pleasant “You know, Ms. Stoltz, the more I study this complaint the more I find it appalling. It’s groundless and I’m stunned that Conduct would even remotely consider pursuing it.”

“You’ve already said that,” Lacy replied calmly. “Any objections to my recording this conversation?”

“I don’t give a damn what you do.”

Lacy pressed the record button on her phone and asked, “Now, what can I do for you?”

“You can dismiss this damned complaint, that’s what you can do. And you can tell Mr. Greg Myers that I’ll keep his ass tied up in court for the next ten years fighting libel suits.”

“I’ll pass that along, and I’m sure Mr. Myers understands that there is nothing libelous or defamatory in his complaint because it has not been made public.”

“We’ll see about that. I’ve decided not to file a motion to dismiss, simply because it will only draw attention to this matter. The Board has five members, five political hacks who sucked up to the Governor, and I don’t trust any of them when it comes to keeping secrets, just like I don’t trust anybody in your office. This has got to be kept as quiet as possible. Do you understand, Ms. Stoltz?”

“We had this conversation in Judge McDover’s office two days ago.”

“Well, we’re having it again. And furthermore, I’d like to know more about your investigation. Doubtless it’s going nowhere, so I’m afraid you’ll get desperate and start cold-calling anybody who might possibly know my client. That’s how rumors get started, vicious rumors, Ms. Stoltz, and, well, I just don’t trust you or anyone else to handle this matter with discretion.”

“You’re worrying too much, Mr. Killebrew. We do this every day and we understand confidentiality. And, I’m not at liberty to discuss our investigation.”

“Well, I’m warning you that if this case becomes a witch hunt and my client’s reputation is damaged, I’ll sue you and Mr. Geismar and everybody else at Conduct for defamation.”

“Go ahead. And we’ll countersue for filing a frivolous lawsuit.”

“Beautiful, just beautiful. I would relish the opportunity of seeing you guys in court. I live there, Ms. Stoltz, and you do not.”

“Anything else, Mr. Killebrew?”

“Nothing. Good day.”

As cool as she sounded on the phone, the call was nonetheless unsettling. Killebrew was a fearless litigator, infamous for his scorched-earth tactics. Such a lawsuit would ultimately be deemed frivolous, but the prospect of wrangling with him was intimidating. And he was right; he earned big money in front of juries, and Lacy had never seen one. She played the call for Michael, who managed a laugh. He had received such threats before; she had not. As long as BJC did its job and did not step out-of-bounds, the agency was basically immune from civil lawsuits. Otherwise, they would never serve a complaint.

She returned to her desk and tried to concentrate on other matters. For the second time, she called the constable’s office and asked for Billy Cappel. He was too busy at the moment. She called back an hour later and he was still in a meeting. She called her insurance company and eventually tracked down the adjuster who had her totaled Prius. He informed her that he had sold her wrecked car to a salvage yard near Panama City for $1,000, the usual price for a full loss. He claimed to know little about what happened to such vehicles after they landed at salvage yards, but he believed they were either crushed and sent to recycling plants or sold to scrap yards for parts. Two phone calls to the salvage yard netted no information. After lunch, she informed Michael she had a doctor’s appointment and would not be back that afternoon.

Instead, she drove to Panama City, her first road trip alone. She stuck to the speed limit and tried not to flinch at every car that passed, but it was nerve-racking nonetheless. Her breathing was labored and a thick knot stayed in her stomach, but she was determined to get there and back. At the salvage yard, she parked in a gravel lot between a tow truck and a battered pickup and asked an old man with a greasy shirt and even dirtier beard about the office. He nodded toward a metal building with dented walls and an open front door. She walked through it and entered a room with a long counter where mechanics purchased used auto parts. The walls were covered with an impressive collection of hubcaps, though one corner was reserved for calendars of seminude women. The presence of a pretty lady stopped all transactions. A man with the name Bo stenciled on his shirt smiled and said, “Well, hello, miss, what can we do for you?”

She smiled, stepped forward, and said, “I’m looking for my car. It was wrecked three weeks ago on the Tappacola reservation and brought here. I’d like to see it and retrieve some personal items.”

Bo stopped smiling and said, “Well, if it was brought here, then it’s not your car anymore. I’m assuming it was totaled.”

“Yes. I’ve talked to my insurance company and was told it was here.”

Bo stepped to a computer screen and asked, “Do you have the VIN?” She handed over a photocopy of her title. He punched some keys as his pal Fred joined him. Two mechanics watched closely from the other end of the counter. Bo and Fred frowned and mumbled and seemed confused. Bo said, “This way,” and left the counter. Lacy followed as they walked along a short hall and through a side entrance. Behind the building, and kept from view by a tall fence, was a field of mangled cars, trucks, and vans, hundreds of them. In the distance, a massive, clumsy machine was crushing a wrecked vehicle. Bo waved at another man and he eventually walked over. He wore a white shirt, one much cleaner than Bo’s or Fred’s, and without a name on it, and he seemed to be in charge. Bo handed him a sheet of paper and said, “She’s looking for that Prius that came from the Indian reservation. Says it was hers.”

The man frowned and shook his head. “It’s not here. Some guy showed up a few days ago and bought it for cash. Took it away on a flatbed hauler.”

Lacy, way out of her league, asked, “Who bought it?”

“Can’t say, ma’am, and really don’t know. Don’t think he ever gave a name, just wanted the car and had the cash. Happens all the time. These guys’ll buy a wreck and sell off the parts. Never seen this dude before.”

“And there are no records?”

Bo laughed and his boss grinned at her ignorance. The boss said, “No, ma’am. Once a car is totaled and the title is invalidated, no one cares what happens to it. Cash sales are not unusual in this business.”

She wasn’t sure what to ask next. She assumed they were telling the truth. She looked at the acres of wrecked vehicles and realized that a search would be fruitless.

“Sorry, ma’am,” the boss said and walked away.

–

The text from Verna read “You wanna talk?”

They exchanged a few more messages and agreed on a time.

Lacy arrived at the Hatch home after dinner. Verna was alone with the kids. The older two were doing homework at the kitchen table. Pippin and the toddler were asleep. Verna said the house had not been that quiet since before Hugo died. They sipped green tea on the patio and watched fireflies in the darkness. Verna was relieved that the relatives had finally cleared out, though her mother would be back tomorrow to help with Pippin. Verna was exhausted but sleeping more. She still awoke with the dream that Hugo was with her, but managed to work her way back to reality. With four kids she did not have the luxury of proper mourning. Life was not slowing down.

She said, “I got the life insurance check today, so the pressure is off, for now anyway.”

“That’s great, Verna.”

“We’ll be okay for a year or so, but I’ll have to find a job. Hugo made sixty thousand a year and we never saved a dime. I need to bury some of this money for the future, for the kids.”

She wanted to talk, and she wanted a listener who was not in the family. Her degree from FSU was in public health, and she’d been a social worker for a year or so before her first pregnancy. After the third, she put away any thoughts of a career. She said, “I like the thought of a job. I’ve been a full-time mother for a long time now and I’m ready for a change. Hugo and I talked about this often and we had decided that as soon as Pippin was in preschool I would go back to work. Maybe with two salaries we could swing a bigger house, maybe start saving for the kids. Hugo was so supportive, Lacy. He had the big ego and all that, he couldn’t help it, but he was not threatened by a working wife.”

Lacy listened and nodded. Verna had talked of a career a dozen times.

Verna took a sip of tea and closed her eyes for a moment. She snapped out of it with “Can you believe I’ve already had folks asking me for money? So far two of Hugo’s cousins hung around here long enough to ask for a loan. I said hell no and got rid of them, but they’ll be back. What is it about people that makes them do horrible things like that, Lacy?”

The question couldn’t be answered. Lacy responded with “I don’t know.”

Verna said, “I got way too many people giving me advice these days. Even before the funeral everybody knew I was getting a hundred thousand in life insurance and some of these leeches were already trying to worm their way in. I’m sick of them, really. Not my mom or my sisters, but some of these cousins, some of these folks Hugo and I have barely seen in the past five years.”

“Geismar said there were some lawyers in the house, plotting lawsuits.”

“I got rid of them too. One big mouth said I could collect from the insurance policy that covered the stolen truck. Turns out that’s not the case. When a vehicle is stolen like that, the policy becomes void, at least as far as liability. Lots of big lawsuits got kicked around. One was against Toyota for the faulty air bag and seat belt, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Got a question, Lacy. When you and Hugo drove to the casino that night, was his seat belt working?”

“Not really. He complained because it wouldn’t stay latched. This had never happened before. He fiddled around with it and several times got it to click into place, but something was wrong with it.”

“You think someone tampered with it?”

“I do, Verna. I believe the air bag was disarmed and the seat belt was somehow compromised.”

“And the accident was not an accident?”

“No, it was not. We were deliberately hit by a truck that weighed twice as much as the Prius.”

“But why? You gotta tell me, Lacy. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“I’ll tell you as much as I can, but you must promise to keep it quiet.”

“Come on, Lacy. You know me.”

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“Yes. One of Hugo’s friends from law school is handling everything. I trust him.”

“Okay, but not even he needs to know the story, not now.”

“Tell me, please.”

–

It was almost ten when Roderick opened the door and said, “Mom, Pippin’s crying.”

Verna quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and said, “Well, what a surprise. That child.”

As the women stood and walked inside, Lacy said, “I’ll stay tonight, okay? I’ll take care of Pippin and maybe we can talk some more.”

“Thank you, Lacy. I have some more questions.”

“I’m sure you do.”