Jason Deas - Benny James 03 - Brushed Away Page 4

  Benny walked in the door and found Vernon pacing the room. Vernon looked up and smiled.

  “That’s the smile of a confident man,” Benny said, smiling too.

  “I think I’m getting good at this.”

  “You’re not getting good; you were already good, and you’re just now realizing it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hungry?” Benny asked.

  “Not really, but I know I should eat.”

  “You should. You talk and I’ll cook. You need a drink?”

  “No. I’m good.”

  Benny walked to the fridge and pulled out a spaghetti squash. He turned the oven to 400 degrees. Seemingly at the same time, he pulled out a cutting board and a black frying pan. From the fridge he retrieved a package of lean ground beef and began browning it in the black cast iron pan. With a sizzle in the background he sliced the spaghetti squash in half and scooped out the seeds. He continued to work, drizzling olive oil on the squash as Vernon talked.

  “I found some major clues today at the campground.”

  “Do tell.” Benny flipped the squash over on an aluminum foil lined cookie sheet and popped it in the oven. He grabbed two tomatoes and an onion from the fridge.

  “I got to really thinking about how the killer got into the campground and decided it had to be by boat.”

  “Of course. Why didn’t we think of that sooner?”

  “Don’t know. But I found something very interesting down by the water’s edge.”

  “What?” Benny diced the onions and tomatoes and added them to the browned ground beef. He opened a can of tomato paste as he continued listening to Vernon.

  “An artist’s brush was stuck in the sand with a notch in it!”

  “Shut up.”

  “Not kidding. And that’s not it.”

  “What else?”

  “You can tell where the boat landed. They came in hot and heavy. Made a huge gash in the sand.”

  “I still can’t believe I didn’t think of the water entrance. I guess I’m a little off today because of Rachael’s call last night.”

  “You doing OK?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

  “All right. Let me know when you do.”

  “We need to check the boats at all the marinas to see if any of them have muddy spots on their bows.”

  “Yes. And we need to do that today before they get washed away. I’ll get some deputies on it.”

  Benny opened the oven door slightly to check on the spaghetti squash.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but what the hell are you making?”

  “Spaghetti.”

  “Where are the noodles?”

  “We are substituting spaghetti squash for noodles.”

  “Is that what that big yellow thing is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Looks nasty to me. Is this a white thing?”

  “No,” Benny said laughing. “You’ll like it. I was a bit skeptical myself at first. I promise you’ll like it.”

  “You haven’t lied to me yet, but I’m thinking we are about to have a first.”

  “Did you find anything else?”

  “I did. I decided to hire a trucking company to move the tent to a warehouse space without breaking it down. I thought it might preserve any evidence inside the tent we may have overlooked.”

  “Look at you. Damn son! Are you the same guy who was throwing up at the first murder scene we ever worked together?”

  “We’ve been through a lot since then.”

  “We have.”

  “When we picked up the tent to put it inside the truck, I found something underneath.”

  “What?”

  “Today’s edition of the Tilley Bee.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me? The killer went back to the scene?”

  “It has to be him,” Vernon said.

  “Then the gash in the sand could be when he came back.”

  “I guess it could,” Vernon said thinking. “But I would bet my life that the gash is from the first visit to the site. He was nervous and driving fast.”

  “Wait a minute,” Benny said. “What time does the paper get printed?”

  “4:20 a.m.”

  “Yeah. I now remember that from our last case. What time does it go in all those boxes around town?”

  “An hour later, I suppose,” Vernon said. “I see what you’re getting at. Do you think they only made one trip and it was just before dawn? And the newspaper is just supposed to trip us up?”

  “That would be my bet,” Benny said.

  Benny pulled the spaghetti squash out of the oven and shredded it with a large fork. Vernon looked on in horror. Benny took two bowls out and filled each halfway with shredded squash. On top he ladled his homemade marinara. Vernon eyed the dish with skepticism. Sitting at Benny’s kitchen table, he slowly brought a forkful to his mouth and chewed. His eyes went from fright to surprise in a moment. He chewed some more and swallowed. Vernon smiled with delight.

  “You white folks been keeping this a secret?”

  “Yep,” Benny said. “That’s the way we are.”

  After lunch, Benny borrowed Donny’s speedboat. He had Vernon go over and ask for the keys as he didn’t want to get Donny upset again.

  Rene also lived on a boat. She lived directly across the lake from the Sleepy Cove Marina. She made her home on a sailboat. Rene came to Tilley a few years back when her husband was transferred from Italy. When he was transferred back, she realized she loved Tilley more than she loved him and she stayed. Her marina was a little bit smaller than Benny’s and only catered to sailboats. Of the three marinas on the lake, it was known as the snooty one. It was named X-Sailence. It was against the rules to live on the premises, but Rene somehow talked the owner into it. Benny had often wondered what she had to give up or do to make him budge on the policy.

  As Benny steered the boat toward the marina, Vernon made his way to the front of the craft. He gave Benny the thumbs up sign asking him to speed up. Receiving the message, Benny pushed the throttle forward as far as it would go, and the boat skipped across the gentle waters with a rhythmic up and down motion. Vernon held on as the wind rushed across his face.

  Nearing the marina, Benny pulled the throttle back.

  “That was fun,” Vernon said.

  “You were acting like you’ve never been on a boat before.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “What?”

  “I drove a canoe once.”

  “You don’t drive canoes.”

  “Whatever.” Changing topics, Vernon asked, “Do you think Rene even knows anything?”

  “No. It’s what she doesn’t know she knows. You know what I mean?”

  “I think I do. Do you know where she parks her boat?”

  “Yes. And you don’t drive or park boats. You dock them in a slip.”

  “Well, isn’t that sophisticated.”

  “I guess it is.” Benny pointed toward a boat and Vernon’s eyes followed. “That’s it, the one named Fresh.”

  “Do you see what I see?” Vernon asked.

  “I do and I’m wondering the same thing you are.”

  Tied to the side of Rene’s boat was a speed boat, pointing outward, with mud covering the bow. Benny eyed the vessel and surmised it was an incredibly expensive boat. The mud on the bow fit exactly what Benny and Vernon were looking for. Benny and Vernon eyed each other as their faces turned solemn.

  Benny tied the boat up in one of the slips designated for visitors. He got out of the boat first and steadied it as Vernon jumped from the boat to the dock. Benny wanted to say something but held his tongue as he was glad Vernon didn’t end up in the water.

  As they neared the row of boats where Rene’s was docked, Benny threw his arm out in front of Vernon and pulled him back and out of sight.

  “What?” Vernon asked.

  “See the boat moving?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Somebody heavy is wal
king. Maybe they’re leaving.”

  “If we walk up to the front door and knock we can see who is in there with her,” Vernon said.

  “Yes we can. But if we see them leave on their own and she doesn’t tell us they were there, we catch her in a lie.”

  “What does she have to lie about?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  “Are you suspicious of everybody?”

  “Yep,” Benny said. “Even you.”

  Vernon gave him a look.

  “Oh, that’s right, you don’t know anything about boats. You can’t be the person who drove the boat and parked it on the sand.”

  “I’ve created a pretty good alibi for myself, huh?”

  “You’re a genius.”

  The sound of a door opening pushed the men back and out of sight. A loud voice echoed through the covered slips, and Benny recognized the voice as the owner of the marina, Big E. He had an unmistakable lazy southern drawl. A moment later, Big E emerged from the sailboat and laughed. He walked around to the back of Rene’s sailboat and boarded his speedboat. He said something else which Benny and Vernon could not quite make out, fired up his boat, and made some waves. Rene went back inside her sailboat and shut the door.

  “Let’s go,” Vernon said.

  “No. We don’t want her to know we saw him leave. Let’s wait a few minutes.”

  “You seriously think she may have had something to do with this?”

  “I don’t know, but I learned this lesson the hard way, remember?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  Once upon a time, Benny had been king of the FBI. He’d been investigating a case in which the dean of a prominent university was murdered. A letter opener had been inserted into his heart. Benny was the lead investigator. He put himself in charge of investigating the dean’s daughter. As it all turned out, they got involved romantically, and she wound up being the one responsible for the murder. Oops.

  “Let’s wait five minutes,” Benny suggested.

  “OK. Do you know Big E personally?”

  “I’ve talked to him a couple of times. He’s what I call ‘Old Boy Money.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  “His parents and grandparents owned a lot of the land around the lake before it was a popular place. They sold it a little bit at a time as they needed the cash. As you can imagine, as time went by, the prices climbed. Lakefront property is expensive and they owned almost half of the land that surrounded this lake. When the grandparents died, they passed it on to Big E’s parents and as they have aged it seems as though he’s inherited the kingdom. He has a brother, but he’s in a penitentiary in Colorado. They’ve sold most of the land beside the marina and the surrounding thirty acres. He’s got that in his back pocket if he ever needs some cash, but the rents from the slips bring in major cash, I imagine. How come you don’t know him? Seems like he would have needed you at some point”

  “His marina is in a different county.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Can we go now?”

  “I’ll follow you,” Benny said.

  Vernon knocked on Rene’s door after carefully climbing aboard. She answered with wide eyes.

  “Hey guys. You been out there long?”

  “No,” Vernon said. “We just pulled into the marina as some guy went flying out of here on a speed boat. If I had my radar gun I would’ve given him a ticket.”

  Rene laughed. “Did you see who it was?”

  “No, I could only tell it was a pretty big guy.”

  Rene shrugged her shoulders.

  Vernon gave Benny a look and Benny tried to hide his amusement.

  “Hi Benny,” Rene said looking past Vernon. “Why don’t you guys come on inside.”

  Inside, the three settled down in the galley.

  “So,” Vernon began, “you ready to go back to work?”

  “Yeah. It’s not like there was a murder in the restaurant itself. Hopefully people will still come to eat and won’t be grossed out by the thoughts of the painting made of blood.”

  “I’ll still eat there,” Benny stated.

  “Me too,” Vernon followed. “Can you tell me anything about that day that may have happened differently than most days? Have you thought of who could have done this or had the ability to let somebody in to do this?”

  “I opened as usual. I always open. I get there at about six and I always enter through the front door. I don’t recall thinking that anything seemed out of order or out of the ordinary. It was just another day. I made a few deserts and prepped stuff for the salads and sandwiches. There weren’t any deliveries. The staff arrived at a few minutes before nine. Once I let them inside, I left the front door unlocked. As you know, we don’t serve breakfast, but a few people like to stop in and get a cup of coffee.”

  “Who came in for coffee that morning?” Vernon asked as he pulled out a small notepad.

  Rene’s eyes looked upward as she searched her brain. “Russell from the Post Office. Jill from the salon next door and one other guy named Kyle who drives a delivery route to Atlanta daily. I pack him a lunch every day as a deal we worked out a year or so ago. And that’s it.”

  “Do you think any of those people would be capable of murdering someone and making a painting out of their blood?”

  “No!”

  “What about any of your employees?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you think it could have happened? How could somebody walk through your door with a large canvas and hang it on the wall without anybody noticing?”

  “Good question,” Rene said. “Believe me, I have been racking my brain trying to figure this out. And I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit scared. Why did they pick my restaurant? Does this have anything to do with me or something I’ve done?”

  Vernon looked to Benny who had been quiet on purpose, letting Vernon lead.

  “I don’t believe so,” Benny said shifting in his chair. “You’ve always been an advocate for the arts and a place where local artists could sell their work. I think your café was just the only place in town that made sense. I don’t think it had anything to do with you at all.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes, I do.” Benny gave her a solemn look. “Do you know a lot of artists in the area.”

  “Of course. I probably know all of them who sell their work. I must be the only place around where an artist can display and sell their work without paying a dime in commissions.”

  “Why do you do it?”

  “I love art,” Rene said with a sly smile. “And it brings in business. The artists want people they know to see their work and they send them here. It’s a big deal to have your artwork hanging somewhere. And, most people feel like they have to buy something when they come in since this is a restaurant and not an art gallery.”

  “And once people try your desserts or one of your sandwiches, they’re hooked,” Vernon said.

  “You got it.”

  “Do you know the Oglethorpe family?” Benny asked.

  “Of course I do. Angel works for me.”

  “Has her mother or uncle ever shown their work at the restaurant?”

  “Her mother has. Her uncle is just a crazy old man.”

  “Do you think he could be the type of person to do something like this?”

  “Make a painting out of blood—yes, kill someone—no.”

  “What kind of work does Angel’s mother do?”

  “Her name is Nina and she’s a mix of Georgia O’Keefe, Jackson Pollack, and Wassily Kandinsky.”

  “Oh my,” Benny said. “So let me get this straight. She paints something in nature, close up, throws sand and other random things in the paint, and has spirit?”

  “Have you seen her work?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Show off,” Vernon said. “What is she like as a person?”

  “Shy, quiet, and withdrawn.”

  “What do you
mean by withdrawn?” Vernon asked.

  “I think she’s one of those shy people who have a very hard time interacting with people, even in the simplest exchanges. She only brought her work here because there was such a bad leak in her roof. If she didn’t need the money she never would have come.”

  “And people bought her work?” Vernon asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I finish this story?” Benny asked.

  “Be my guest,” Rene said smiling.

  “You bought her work.”

  “I did.”

  “You’re good people,” Vernon said.

  “Would you like a painting of a maple leaf, which has pieces of pine straw in it, and every color you ever imagined? I don’t have room for a lot of paintings here on the sailboat.”

  Benny and Vernon laughed and gave each other a secretive nod. They stood in unison.

  “We’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing,” Vernon said. “We just wanted to check on you and ask a few questions. Let me know if you think of anything else.”

  “I will.”

  Benny pretended to sniff the air when he told Rene goodbye and had eye contact with her.

  “Do you smell gas or something?” Rene asked.

  “No, I just caught a whiff of a man’s cologne. You must have had a guest earlier.”

  “No. You two are the only people who’ve come over today.”

  “Maybe it’s my new deodorant,” Benny said. “The store was out of my usual.”

  As Rene turned to walk to the door, Vernon shot Benny a look and Benny stuck his tongue out at him.

  Chapter 7

  Benny steered the boat back toward his marina. When they were out of earshot from Rene’s, Vernon busted out laughing. Benny pulled the throttle back and slowed the boat.

  “Would you like to share?” Benny asked.

  “Did you really smell cologne? I didn’t smell anything.”

  “No. I didn’t smell anything either, but I wanted her to lie to my face.”