Jason Deas - Benny James 02 - Pushed (8 page)

“Get your freaking grass cut.”

“I thought you was gonna tell me to stop the drinking.”

“You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Thanks, Benny.”

“Get your ass dried off, get in bed, and have yourself a good dinner when you wake up.”

Benny shut the bathroom door and waited outside until he heard the water draining, just in case Ted decided in his stupor to take his nap in the tub. When he heard the sound of water swirling down the drain, he started his search for a phone book or a refrigerator magnet that might have the telephone number of the local pizza joint. Not finding either, Benny put on his investigator’s cap and walked into the garage where most people kept their trash containers. If it wasn’t in the garage, it would be on the side or back of the house where it would not be visible from the road. It was in the garage.

Benny flipped open the top to find a stack of pizza boxes and wondered if Ted ate anything else. The smell of trash sitting in a hot garage in the Florida heat was horrid and Benny quickly ripped one of the coupons off and slammed the lid shut and retreated back into the house. 

He punched the phone number off the coupon into his cell and waited as it rang. He placed an order and when he gave the address the male voice on the other end of the line changed his friendly tone.

“We don’t deliver to this address without a credit card prepayment,” the man said.

“And why is that?” Benny asked.

“I can tell you are not the guy who lives there, but he used to order all the time and pass out before we got there and we were stuck with the pizza. So, now it is company policy that he has to pay with his credit card over the phone and if we get there and ring the doorbell and he doesn’t answer, we just leave the pizza outside of the door. I guess he gets it in the morning.”

“Fair enough,” Benny answered. He gave them a credit card number over the phone as well as a healthy tip and hung up.

Before Benny could even check on Ted to see if he made it safely out of the bathtub, he could hear him snoring in one of the bedrooms. He rounded the corner and witnessed a sight that would be forever burned in his memory. Ted lay sprawled on the bed, completely naked, on his back in a frozen snow angel pose. Benny thought about turning away and fleeing the scene, but his caretaker instincts took over as he felt the cold air conditioning blowing his hair from the vent just above the doorway. He had no idea how long Ted would be out and Ted did not need a sickness on top of what would probably be a nasty hangover. Trying not to look at Ted’s massive belly and all of his other attractions, Benny pulled what looked like a homemade quilt over him and gently tucked it under his chin. He pulled the door shut and found the thermostat to turn the air up. It had been set on sixty-five. Benny readjusted it to seventy-two.

He found Ted’s briefcase in the living room and opened it to find, just as promised, each and every case file for the Brother Jim murders. Benny pored over them until the pizza showed up and filed the pizza away into the fridge and the case files back into Ted’s briefcase. The files contained scarce information. Benny checked on Ted one more time and once again covered him. Benny left a note on the fridge telling Ted to call him when he wanted company again. He wrote that he would bring all the ingredients to make Sloppy Joes. As he left, his mind was puzzling over one item in Ted’s files.

Chapter 12

Benny had been meaning to check in with Reverend Jim and tell him he was in Florida and on the case. Since he had learned nothing new before his visit to Ted’s, he had been hesitant to call. Now that he had some information, he dialed Reverend Jim’s number as he eyed the Kenny Rogers’ cassette. His mood had changed and he was now in the mood for a little Kenny.

Without a hello, Reverend Jim asked, “Did you find him?”

“No, sir. Not yet. But I did just get some pretty good information,” Benny lied.

“Do you know where he is?”

“Not exactly.”

“You need to catch him before he kills again. Did you see that Rachael Martin gal on the news this morning talking about the disappearance of the Wingz-N-Legz waitress, Charlene?”

“I didn’t see it, but she told me about it,” Benny answered. He speculated whether Reverend Jim knew about his relationship with Rachael and this was a test of his honesty.

“That’s right,” Reverend Jim answered, with a sneer. “You two were like two peas in a pod on your last case. I saw you two one time on the television and it looked like something was going on between the two of you.”

Benny decided to ignore the statement and changed the subject. “Where are you?” he asked.

“At the home office,” Reverend Jim answered. “As your employer in this situation, I don’t really think it is your business to know my whereabouts,” he scolded.

“I apologize. I was just wondering if we might be able to sit down and discuss the case at some point. I’m not much of a phone person.”

“I apologize, as well,” Reverend Jim said. “That was rude of me.” Benny could have sworn he heard a slap and wondered if the Reverend had struck himself as he did the first time he met him at the Tilley police station.

“Not a problem,” Benny assured. “You
are
my employer.”

Benny knew when to grovel and he did it well.

“I’m just a little tense, Mr. James. I think we do need to sit down face-to-face and discuss something. I’m afraid I haven’t told you everything about my son. I’m ready to tell you the rest, and I think it will greatly help you in finding him.”

“OK,” Benny said. “Would you like to come to Florida or would you like me to come to Mississippi? I don’t want to be away from this area for too long, but I can take a day or two and do a lot of driving and be back if it is that important.”

“You underestimate me,” Reverend Jim laughed.

Benny was not sure what to say and did not speak.

“I’ll send my personal plane. Are you still in West Palm Beach?”

“I am,” Benny answered. He couldn’t remember if he had told the Reverend if he was in West Palm Beach or not, and the thought of him keeping tabs on him without his knowledge bothered Benny.

“That is where Ms. Martin was reporting from this morning,” Reverend Jim said. “I just assumed if she told you about the missing waitress, she told you in person.”

Benny breathed a sigh of relief and felt silly for being paranoid. Now he just felt judged—like Reverend Jim somehow knew with his Godly wisdom that he was sharing a room with Rachael and having wild sex.

“That is correct. I saw her at breakfast this morning, and she gave me that tidbit of information,” Benny sort of lied. “We shared information on my last case and I did inform her that I would not be able to have the same working agreement on this case,” Benny sort of lied again.

“Thank you for honoring our contract,” Reverend Jim stated. “Did she know anything outside of what she reported about Charlene Mc… what is it?”

“McGill,” Benny answered. “Her name is Charlene McGill. And no, Rachael doesn’t know anything more than what is being reported. She said that there is very little hope, though. Charlene is not the type of person who just disappears. She has never missed work and it just was not in her personality to do something like this. The outlook is not good.”

“Shame,” Reverend Jim said with a deep sigh. “I hope she is just off, forgetting the time and date and my son has nothing to do with this.”

Benny heard the slapping sound again. This time there was no question about it—it was the hard slapping of flesh.

“I’ll send instructions and a plane,” the Reverend abruptly hung up.

Benny stared at the phone, wondering what information was so important that Reverend Jim would send his personal jet to pick him up.

Chapter 13

As Benny walked into the lobby of the Sea Chief, he was greeted by FBI agent Jessica Flynn. To a casual observer, Jessica did not look anything like an FBI agent. She resembled a girl who had just stepped off the beach in Miami, washed off her suntan lotion, and put on a business suit for the fun of it. Her attitude and her bulldog personality told a different story.

“Benny James?” she strode toward him as he walked in the door. Benny was still singing Kenny Rogers’ hits in his head.

“Who’s asking?” he put on his game face, recognizing FBI immediately. 

“FBI,” she answered, thinking it would impress him.

“Been there, done that, honey. Tell me something I don’t know,” he smiled.

“I know who you are, Mr. James,” Jessica said, loosening up a bit. “Could I buy you a drink in the bar?”

“If the FBI is footing the bill, I’m going to drink myself silly,” Benny answered.

“It is,” Jessica answered, with the beginning of a smirk.

“Let’s get started with some Dom Perignon.”

Benny followed her to the bar and tried as hard as he could not to stare at her backside. It swung back and forth in front of him with perfection. He could not pull his eyes away. When she took her seat, and turned around to look at him, he looked off into the distance, as if he was completely disinterested.

He finally focused back on her. “How can I help you Ms. …?” Benny acted as if he couldn’t remember her last name. In reality, it was burning a new hole in his brain and fighting with his allegiance to Rachael.

“Flynn.” She smiled and swatted his knee with her fingertips.

“I was going to say, ‘winter’ or something like that.” Benny tried to find one of Jessica’s flaws to concentrate his mind. He couldn’t find one.

She continued, “Where’s that bitch, Rachael?”

He found one.

“Excuse me?” Benny hoped he’d heard wrong.

“Oh,” she said, feigning ignorance, “are you involved with her? I heard she was staying here and I don’t want her cornering me again, asking for information I’m not at liberty to give.”

“She’s a good journalist.”

“Excuse my language, Mr. James, but maybe you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be hounded by the press for information, and Ms. Martin, for lack of a better term, is a hound.”

“I remember what it’s like,” Benny offered. “I didn’t let it bother me. If I didn’t have anything to say, I just didn’t say anything and I moved on.”

“You didn’t answer my question about your relationship with Rachael,” Jessica stated, motioning for a bartender.

“We’re seeing each other,” Benny said, even though he didn’t think it was any of her business.

“Exclusively?”

“We never discussed it.”

“Interesting,” Jessica cooed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Benny’s mind did a few flips and searched for words, a waiter appeared.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said, “we were just going through a shift change. What can I get for you?” he asked, looking at Jessica.

“My new friend,” she said, brushing against Benny’s knee again, “was just saying he had a taste for fine champagne. What do you suggest?”

“We had a wedding here last weekend and the wedding party left a few bottles of some divine champagne. I’ll go and see what we have and bring two glasses of our best.”

“That sounds divine,” Jessica mimicked.

As the waiter walked away, Benny gathered his wits and shook off the spell of Jessica’s beauty to ask, “Why do you need to speak with me?”

“No small talk?” Jessica asked. Her smile was beautiful and evil all at once. Benny cringed inside.

“I don’t have much time.”

“Do you have another appointment this afternoon?”

“In fact, I do.”

“With whom?”

“My girlfriend.”

“Touché,” Jessica said, acting like she was stabbing Benny in the chest. She laughed and Benny registered it as one hundred percent fake. “Stay away from Ted,” she said, switching the conversation into a whole new gear.

“Ted who?” Benny asked coolly.

“I’m not talking about Ted Danson,” Jessica said. “Who do you think? You saw him two hours ago.” 

“Oh,” Benny said. “That Ted.”

“Yeah. That one.”

“So,” Benny said, “you’ve been following me?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t see a tail.”

“Oh Benny, honey, we don’t do it that way anymore.”

“I know that.”

“I could teach you so many new things if you would let me.”

“You could?”

“I could,” Jessica promised.

Benny started to slip away again, under her spell, before he caught himself. “When I inspect my car, you better have had the tracking device removed.”

The waiter arrived with the champagne and tried to act as if he had not heard what Benny said. The look on his face revealed he had heard every word.

The waiter departed, and Jessica picked up her flute. “I already have a boss who tells me what to do,” Jessica said, sipping her champagne. “If you want to boss me around, I could probably get into that,” she said with a wink. “If you don’t have your handcuffs anymore, you can borrow mine.”

“You are out of line!” Benny said, shocked by her advances and forthcomingness.

“I thought you already figured that out,” she started, “with the little tracking device thing.”

“I could report this to your boss,” Benny said calmly.

“But you won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Remember Brandt Anderson?”

How could Benny forget. He was the guy who had the job of firing Benny when he made his little mistake. And, he wasn’t nice about it or understanding at all. Brandt raked him over the coals and made Benny feel like the scum of the earth.

“Unfortunately,” Benny answered.

“He’s
my
boss now,” Jessica announced triumphantly, “and he would just file that complaint under sour grapes.”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Benny suggested.

“Let me hear it.”

“I’ll stay away from Ted, if you promise not to follow me, and do your own legwork? I’m tired of solving cases for the FBI. I now work for private citizens. If you want to know what I know—it will cost you and that ass Brandt a pretty penny.”

“Deal,” Jessica said, extending her hand.

Jessica and Benny shook hands.

Benny had not touched his champagne. He picked up his flute and said, “To our deal,” and extended his glass toward Jessica.