Jason Deas - Benny James 02 - Pushed (12 page)

“The three documented murders were very clean. Spotless really.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that the FBI has basically what amounts to nothing?”

“Correct.”

“And, you’re also telling me that what you have basically amounts to the same—nothing?”

“I’m afraid so,” Benny said.

The drinks arrived again. Benny took a big gulp of his before he made his plea to keep the job.

“I assure you sir, that I am the best in the business of solving crimes like this.”

“I know you are.”

“If anybody is going to find your son, it will be me.”

“I know you will. I want to know the moment you find anything new.”

“I’ll let you know,” Benny assured.

Reverend Jim handed Benny a check. Benny was not sure whether to open it or not.

“Open it.”

“Holy shi…” Benny stopped before the words could completely exit his mouth. “You don’t have to pay me for the whole job now!”

“That is not for the whole job. That is for this week with a little bonus for all your hard work and your empathy.”

“I…” Benny didn’t know what to say.

Before he had a chance to think about it any further, the pilot came into the sitting area and informed Reverend Jim they had been cleared and approved to take off. The pilot also informed Benny that he had informed security and an officer was waiting to escort him back to the terminal.

“Maybe next time our plans will work out and you can come visit me in Mississippi.”

“I would like that,” Benny said.

Benny shook hands with Reverend Jim and exited the plane. Waiting for him fifty yards away, by the door to the terminal, with her hand on her hip was Ms. Crenshaw.

Benny smiled at her and waved. She didn’t move.

Chapter 18

Over a late lunch, before her show, Benny told Rachael all about his meeting with Reverend Jim, as the two tried to strategize what their next move would be.

“So,” Rachael began, “have you talked to Ted today?”

“I did. I told him how Jessica followed me to his house and apparently he hates her, because he would love to sleep with her and she won’t give him the time of day. So, he’s all on board for going around her back and giving me information on the sly.”

“Feels good knowing we’ve won that round.” Rachael winked. “Does he have anything new?”

“Not exactly. He’s leading a crew that is going over the crime scene for the murdered waitress from the Wingz-N-Legz restaurant, Charlene.”

“Wait a minute,” Rachael said. “I thought she was just missing?”

“Oops!” Benny covered his mouth as if he had really made a slip of the tongue. “Not any more. They found the body this morning and it has been positively identified as hers.”

“Oh my God,” Rachael said. “That poor girl.”

“It wasn’t even a very high bridge. The water going under the bridge was dotted with giant boulders. From the preliminaries, she died of massive head trauma.”

“Did they find any clues?”

“Just some scrapes above her pubic area and some slight bruising around her breasts, but other than that, nothing.”

“My God.”

“If you need to go to the ladies room, it’s cool.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I insist,” Benny said. “Go make your call.”

Rachael ran off to the bathroom to make her call. The deal she had with Benny was working just fine.

It was four days before Benny was able to interview Stephanie Miller’s parents. Her life and death sparked a media feeding frenzy. Thanks to Ted, Benny had an address that led him to a trailer park named Flamingo Flats. A sign, which used to be lit by neon, marked the entrance. The trailer homes were lined up along a gravel drive with very little gravel remaining. Looking at the massive expanse of space, Benny wondered why all the mobile homes were placed so close to one another. He drove past the park each day, only to see news vans with satellite feed dishes camped nearby and reporters hanging around, eager to talk to anyone who knew Stephanie.

Stephanie Mitchell had been a statewide celebrity of sorts for a couple of reasons.  She relayed her fame as Miss Florida into a television commercial gig as the bikini clad spokeswoman for a Florida brewery that produced Laguna Lager. Laguna Lager was mainly a regional beverage that trickled a bit over state lines. The beer was mainly consumed by Florida residents, as the brewery was relatively small. The high quality beer and her beauty were all the small company needed to make a healthy profit. Stephanie’s face and body were displayed on billboards all over the state. The company even ran a few television ads with Stephanie in some smaller markets where they could afford inexpensive ads. Stephanie didn’t have any speaking roles in the ads. Her body said enough.

Some groups had complained that the ads were too revealing. Certain religious organizations had gone on record to say that the billboards were downright disgusting and unfit to be seen by anyone. One group even called the ads pornographic.

It was less than a twenty minute drive down I-95 to the outskirts of Delray Beach.  By the fourth day, the vans were gone and Benny decided it was time. As soon as he began down the drive, he noticed window shades being pulled aside and heads poking out screen doors to see who was coming. He was obviously not a threat, as the inquiring eyes quickly disappeared. Someone clearly approved of the Trans Am as Benny heard a rebel yell and what he thought was a “hell yeah!”

The Mitchell home sat at the end of the road. Benny admired the baby blue exterior and Christmas lights, which although it was the middle of the afternoon were turned on. Not to mention it was nowhere near Christmas. Before Benny had a chance to turn off the vehicle, the screen door opened and a shirtless man stepped onto a sagging porch. A corrugated metal roof hung crookedly above him. The man grabbed a pack of cigarettes off a wooden picnic table and popped one in his mouth with one hand as the other dug into his pocket and pulled out a Zippo. He absent mindedly performed a neat little trick, slapping the lighter across his leg to open it, and then slapping it across his pant leg in the other direction to ignite it. He pulled the flame toward his cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“Good afternoon,” Benny said.

“Not really,” the man said.

“You must be Mr. Mitchell?”

“I must be.”

Benny tried to guess his age, but the wrinkles in his face and the sunken chest made it pointless. He had the look of a man who had lived hard for too many years.  His body had taken the brunt of his neglect. A gray scruff hid red, pocked cheeks. Sad blue eyes contrasted with the rest of his appearance.

Benny ascended the two metal stairs and offered his hand. “Benny James. I’m sorry for your loss, sir.”

“Shane Mitchell. Thank you for your condolences.” Something in the man’s head clicked and he said, “Oh my God. I seen you on TV. Gina!” he yelled. “We got us a real live celebrity on the porch here.”

Benny heard rustling from inside the mobile home and a woman in her late forties or early fifties came out. She wore a robe that almost matched the baby blue trailer’s color. Kindness radiated from her small, sad smile. Blond curls framed her face as she apologized for still being in her robe in the middle of the day. Benny couldn’t help but notice her perfectly manicured feet and fingers and the whiff of sweet perfume. Her face was soft, with a little extra weight, but she had obviously been quite a beauty in her prime. Today, however, she was still a grieving mother.

“Gina Mitchell,” she said, extending her hand to Benny.

“Benny James.”

“I know. Our cable got cut off, but before it did we used to see you on TV from time to time. We especially liked when you were on Rachael Martin’s show. I had a bet with Shane that something was going on between the two of you. A woman can tell things like that.”

“She is a pretty woman and a very good journalist,” Benny said, trying to avoid answering the question.

“So, does Shane owe me a back rub or do I have to rub his feet?” she asked, not letting it go.

“Shane,” Benny said. “You owe her a back rub, buddy.”

“You old dog,” Shane said as smoke shot out of his nostrils. He stubbed out what was left of his cigarette. “Come on in the house. I guess you got some questions to ask us.”

“Thank you for being so understanding.”

As they entered the house, Benny immediately noticed the walls were absolutely covered with framed photographs. Shelves also lined the walls displaying the biggest collection of trophies he had ever seen. The room was a shrine to the mother-daughter beauty queens.

“Feel free to look around a minute while I get dressed and Shane puts on a shirt.” Gina lovingly touched a framed photograph of her late daughter. Shane put an arm around her shoulder and led her into the bedroom

Benny began his examination of the room with the trophies. They were from various beauty pageants. From the inscriptions, Benny surmised that Stephanie had been in beauty pageants from about the time she could walk.

There were trophies from a wide range of different organizations and regions. Benny imagined Gina carting her all over the state to compete and wondered where the motivation came from to expend the energy it must have required to do so. His question was quickly answered as he inspected some photographs and found one of a young Gina as Miss South East. The trophy standing beside her was almost as big as she was, and if the size of the trophy meant anything, it was a pretty high honor.

Benny continued to inspect the photographs and saw just as many of Gina as he did of Stephanie. Benny even saw Shane in a few as he stood next to one of his girls in the afterglow of a victory. As he continued around the room, he studied the center wall at the back of the living room. A neon Laguna Lager sign glowed with orange and yellow lettering, with two lime green palm trees curving inward on both sides. Photographs and posters of the different advertising campaigns encircled the neon sign and Stephanie was the centerpiece of each and every one. Inspecting them all carefully, he could clearly see why the images incensed some, as a handful of the poses and bikinis were quite racy.

Shane and Gina came out of the bedroom. Benny did his best to conceal his amusement. Gina was dressed to kill and Shane looked ready for a rodeo. For them, it was their Sunday best. Stephanie deserved no less.

“Real beauty, wasn’t she? Took after my Gina, thank God.”

“She had his beautiful blue eyes.” Gina held her husband’s hand.

“Two beautiful girls.” Benny smiled gently down at Gina.

“Why don’t we sit in the kitchen.” Gina pulled a tissue out of her jean pocket and dabbed at the corner of an eye. “It’s the coolest part of the house at this time of day.”

Benny realized both were having trouble holding it together.
These poor people. They’ve just buried their daughter. I could have waited another day.

The three walked through the threshold leading into the kitchen, with Gina leading the way and Shane a step behind. Once in the kitchen, they both turned to get Benny’s reaction to its contents. Benny stood still for a moment, taking it all in and trying to process what he was seeing. Lining the room, stacked at four and five high were cases of Laguna Lager. Benny quickly estimated that there must have been four or five hundred cases of beer.

“Can I get you a beer?” Shane offered.

“No, thank you.”

“How about some sweet tea?”

“That sounds good. Are you going to make me ask why you have enough beer for the whole town? You know, most people don’t keep 500 cases of beer in their kitchen?”

“Well,” Shane’s voice was flat, “after Stephanie was killed, the boss from over at Laguna Lager came over with flowers and his condolences. He said he wished the company could do a little more to show their appreciation for all Stephanie’s work she done for them, but they had just lost a bunch of money on a batch of beer.

“He said a machine had glued the labels on wrong and it would be too much work to take them off and for some reason or another they couldn’t put another one on top. He did have a final check Stephanie hadn’t picked up for an appearance she made at a boat show. It was for less than five hundred dollars. I told him we didn’t really have money for a funeral and we were having to borrow.”

Gina set a cold glass of tea in front of Benny as Shane paused to light a cigarette. He didn’t ask Benny if he minded, and in actuality, Benny liked the smell. It reminded him of his parents, who were heavy smokers. Benny took a sip of iced tea and instantly felt a cavity coming on.

After inhaling deeply on his cigarette, Shane continued. “Almost as soon as I finished telling the Laguna Lager guy that we didn’t have the money for the funeral, his eyes lit up. He said that although his company couldn’t sell the beer, nothing said that I couldn’t if he gave me the batch. He said I’d have to be careful since I don’t have a license to sell beer, but if I was careful it might just work.

“When he said it, I was thinking it might be a hundred cases or something like that. I had no idea what it meant to make a batch of beer. We sell it ten dollars a case or one dollar a beer if you just want one or two. Some folks in the neighborhood come by every day for a beer or two after work. Kind of like running a bar—we actually call it the Flamingo Lounge.”

“Well, that was awfully nice of him to do that for you.”

“Sure was,” Gina said as Shane nodded his head.

“I don’t know if you’re aware or not,” Benny said, taking another sip of tea, “but I’m not officially working this case for any law enforcement agency.”

Gina and Shane nodded.

“I’ve been hired by the Reverend Jim to help find his son. He seems to believe I will be able to find him before the police or the FBI.”

“You will,” Shane said.

“Oh yeah,” Gina agreed.

“I just want to be clear and for you to know that you do not have to help me or answer my questions if you don’t want to. Do you both understand?” Shane and Gina both said they understood. “I would be very grateful for your help, though. Will you help me?”

“Damn straight we’re gonna help you,” Shane said. “Right, Gina?”