Death in the Polka Dot Shoes (33 page)

When their car turned down Simy's street, she grabbed a ball cap off the sofa, and yanked the back door open, running for the back of her yard. She knew the fence from years of planting zinnias along the border. She knew it was chain link, with a steel pipe that framed the wire. Without stopping, she grabbed the pipe with both hands and vaulted over the fence. When the little neighborhood houses closed in around her, she felt protected from the view of policemen now entering her house. And she didn't have far to go.

Simy raced down the street, one block to the community pier where they had had July 4th picnics for years. There were no fences around the community right of way, maintained by volunteers with weekly lawn cutting, and she could see the lights come on in a couple houses. Her lungs were starting to strain, and her shins were aching. It had been a long time since she had run this hard, or this far. But she knew it was about over, and she could hear the bull horn, and then the sirens starting up again. The open area to the pier was only about 30 yards long, and when her feet hit the grass it was like a bedroom carpet, soft and welcoming.

When her feet first hit the dock, it felt good. She had made it. Maybe not the right course, but it was the only course. Her life had been difficult, and now it would be over. She hit the last plank with perfect timing and entered the water as if walking into a basement. Witnesses said she hardly made a splash, simply disappearing below the chop of the Chesapeake, and never coming up. She had hardly disturbed the morning.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I don't really know what to make of these events. I awoke later in the day in the hospital, with an IV in my arm, a bright sun casting venetian shadows across the bed, and Pete and Lil sitting in faded maroon chairs beside a blonde chest of drawers.

“Pete, what's happened? Lil, why are you here?” I asked.

“Well,” Pete said, “we had to fish you out of the water so I figured we had better make sure you didn't hurt yourself in the hospital.”

“How's the
Martha Claire
?” I asked. Years later Pete would say he knew at that instant I was a waterman.

“She's at the bottom of the Bay, in about six thousand pieces. Every time it storms, we'll be finding pieces of her at the Bayfront, probably for the next forty years,” Pete said.

“Except for that Oldsmobile motor,” Lil chimed in. “Oysters are laying eggs in that baby right now.”

“I don't understand,” I said. “What's going on?”

“First, the good news,” Lil said. “Martha is on her way in. Should be here within the hour. Since it's clear you're not dying, I can call and tell her not to hurry.”

“The bad news,” Pete said, “Simy committed suicide this morning. Apparently she was on the boat with Jimmy, and somehow tied in with the Blenny Man, and when the cops came for her this morning, she ran down to the Pelican Bay community pier and jumped in.”

“They're looking for her body now,” Lil added. “And since the last time I saw her she was trying to rub the shine off your trousers, do you have anything to add?”

“I have nothing to say,” I said, thinking this is just too much to absorb. “What did she do in all this?” I was being a little disingenuous about this, especially since I did remember running from her house and calling the Sheriff. And I assumed she was involved with Jimmy's death, since he was wearing her shoes. But that's about all I knew.

“Nobody seems too sure of anything,” Pete said. “Apparently, when Simy was running for the Bay, she dropped a piece of paper with Blenny's phone number. The cops called and apparently figured out he was on the water. And your boat was missing, so we put two and two together at the Bayfront, and launched the fleet. I must say we never figured to find Blenny and his boat on the deck of the
Martha
Claire
.”

“What was Blenny doing?” I asked. “I could feel his presence around me. Ever since I moved to Parkers. But I could never figure out what he was after.”

“The resort,” Pete said. “Apparently he was making land deals around the resort property. And by the way, that Sheriff arrived on the first plane this morning and stopped by to make sure you were alive. You were out of it. So he went over to the State's Attorney's Office to start putting a case together. All he said was, ‘Tell Mr. Shannon that Chumbucket and the Blenny Man are talking like magpies.'”

Burl and Martha arrived later in the morning, happy to learn that I would be released in the afternoon. Burl was effusive about the events of the last 24 hours, and my role in them. He just rushed in the door and started talking. He was wearing his tweed jacket, with the pipe tobacco burns on the pockets, where he stuffed his pipe bowl as he went into buildings. Usually he emptied the pipe near the curb just outside his car, but invariably a spark or two of embers would survive all the way to his pocket and leave their telltale spot. In addition, Burl this morning was sporting a Scottish driving cap, brown tweed of course, but wrinkled to the point of demanding an explanation.

“Burl, where'd you get that hat?” I asked.

“Ned, I'm wearing this in your honor,” Burl said. “I found it under some books in the attic, my volume on atom theory and some old books on auto mechanics.”

“Were you going to Mars or the Good Times Auto Repair Service?” I asked. Burl looked a little sheepish and admitted he was really looking for his environmental law books, to bring to the hospital as a present. He hadn't used them in a long time, and felt he had memorized all the eco law he needed, so they might make a perfect gift for a lawyer about to lose his biggest client.

“Ned,” Burl said, “I have some good and bad news, all in one fact.”

“Don't tell me,” I said, “you found a hundred dollar bill in the hat.”

“No,” he said, “but I've been getting calls about you all morning. And the best one came from the head of our Hijenks Committee. She says the Chesapeake Resorts International people have just locked their doors, circled the wagons, and apparently have something to do with the Blenny Man and your brother's death. You know I thought that all along. It's just like Watergate, we should have followed the money. That's what the Sheriff and the Maryland State's Attorney are huddled about right now. There's a rumor that even the Governor is involved, and you blew this case wide open. How about that?”

Martha had quietly entered the room with Burl, but moved behind Burl to allow his excitement about CRI to flood the room. I noticed she didn't share his intensity. She looked at the floor, and glanced occasionally at Lil, who was on the far side of my bed, as if they shared a concern that was being ignored. My mind was flooded by Burl's new evidence, but even with all those questions, I was beginning to realize that Martha and Lil had another perspective that made me uncomfortable.

“I assume the bad news is that I no longer have a retainer from the greatest job-creating resort to ever hit the Chesapeake,” I said.

“I'm afraid so,” Burl said. “But those guys are crooks and you should be damn glad you're not involved with them. In fact, they may have been responsible for Jimmy's death, and maybe even your own threats. At least they had the kind of deep pockets that a blenny man can swim around in.”

“I guess you're right Burl, but with my boat gone, my inheritance in question, and my biggest client in trouble, I'm having a little trouble enjoying the silver lining.”

“And that may be the least of your trouble, my dear brother-in-law,” Martha interrupted. The room went silent with her first words. The questions had to be spoken, and everyone in the room knew the moment had come. Certainly, no one left the room.

I noticed that Martha looked terrific. Her hair was completely gone, of course, and the sheik head scarf of the Moose dance was replaced by a baseball cap. Her jeans were snug and a light Irish sweater accentuated her figure. But her face was white, drawn and all the emotional facial lines were pointed down.

“Did you sleep with Simy Sims last night?” she asked. “The woman who killed my husband?”

Last night, I repeated in my mind. Was it only last night? Seems like a million years ago that I arrived at Simy's house. How could so much have happened?

There was no movement in my room. No one attempted to break the silence or change direction of the questions. I wasn't certain how to ever explain this, and especially not in this crowd.

“Martha,” I said, “I am so sorry. I don't even know all the answers to these questions. Can't we talk about this later?”

“No,” Martha said. “Now. Talk about it now. I want your friends to hear. And I want them to tell all our friends what you say.”

“Well, I….”

Before I could say two words, Martha interrupted. “Wait. First, I want to say that I appreciate everything you have done for me and for Mindy. And I will see that the court approves your inheritance even without the
Martha Claire
. You deserve what Jimmy gave you. But our friendship may be over.”

“Martha,” I said, “I shouldn't have been with Simy, but I had no idea she was involved with Jimmy, certainly not that she may have killed him. It wasn't until I saw the matching sneakers at her house, the ones that matched the pair Jimmy was wearing, the ones that were on his body, that I knew she had some involvement. Please forgive me Martha.”

“Forgive you? You've been sniffing around that woman for weeks. She killed my husband.”

“Wait,” I pleaded. “I didn't know that. I didn't know till I saw the shoes. Even then I couldn't believe it.”

“Of course you didn't believe it!” Martha screamed. “You'd been banging her all night long.”

“Wait!” I screamed, expecting a horde of nurses to run in at any minute. “She's the one who came on to me. She killed my brother, and she still came on to me. How outrageous is that? I wouldn't dream in a million years that she could do that.”

Martha hesitated, trying to sort that out. Finally, she turned to pick up her jacket. “You men are so weak,” she said. “Burl, take me home.”

Martha turned and stomped out the door. Not until then did I notice that she wasn't using her walker. I was pleased by her continued physical improvement, but her abrupt and unyielding attitude about Simy was based on anger. Martha had a right to be angry. And so did I. At first, I thought maybe she wanted more explanation, or more pleading, or more tears of contrition. But I couldn't do it. I was having trouble putting it all together myself, especially Simy's role in all this. It would all just have to wait.

Burl waved his rumpled hat and followed Martha out the door. Lil walked around the bed and took my hand. “This will all work out,” she said. “The authorities will sort it out. The explanations will come, and I know you'll be fine. Now Pete and I will go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee. You get your clothes together, and we'll take you home.”

It took a couple hours to find the doctor, secure a release and leave the hospital. The doctor said I had received a concussion when Blenny's boat crashed into mine. He couldn't say how, of course, only that I had hit my head on something. But he thought I would be fine after a few days of rest. As the doctor left, calls were flooding into my room. I asked Pete to let Lil get the coffee, and empowered him to stay and answer my phone. I didn't want to take any calls. And if the police called, I wanted someone other than me to talk to them, or at least to find out what they wanted.

By the time I had dressed and prepared to leave, Pete had talked with the State's Attorney and the Sheriff. They had arrested Ray “The Blenny Man” Herbst on several charges including conspiracy to commit murder, racketeering, and several related charges. Jimmy had apparently been killed because he overheard, during a charter boat trip, that the Resorts group was paying off the Governor for his support. And supposedly my boat was sunk to get me to leave Parkers. Pete said he thought they would hold a press conference the next day to discuss the case.

I just wanted to sleep, and urged Pete and Lil to put me in the backseat where I could stretch out. This was my second hospital departure in the last several weeks and the experience was becoming less and less pleasant. This time I was in the traditional wheelchair out the door, riding, not pushing Martha. But in both cases there was a sense of extreme anxiety about leaving, about exiting the protective arms of nurses and doctors and finding myself totally responsible for my fate. Fortunately, the sun was warm against my face as Pete helped me into the backseat, and I felt better.

We drove back to Parkers trying to consider the many legal questions about to enter our lives. But it wasn't necessary, of course, to answer them. The central point, and new revelation that kept circulating in my mind, was that so many people in this little town of Parkers actually cared about me. Martha's anger about my night with Simy was a vivid memory. She expected more from me because she cared. Friendship implied a standard of behavior, a loyalty to certain standards. And I deeply regretted letting her down.