RAINEY DAYS

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Authors: R. E. Bradshaw

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RAINEY DAYS
Other R.E. Bradshaw titles:
Rainey Days
(A Rainey Bell Mystery)

 

Out on the Sound
(Adventures of Decky and Charlie, # 1)

 

The Girl Back Home

 

Coming soon…

 

Out on the Island
(Adventures of Decky and Charlie, # 2)

 

Rainey Nights
(A Rainey Bell Mystery)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

RAINEY DAYS
R. E. Bradshaw

 

 

 

 
Blue Crab Publishing
 
U.S.A.
 

 

 

 

 

Rainey days
R. E. Bradshaw
R. E. Bradshaw Books/ August 2019
www.rebradshawbooks.com
Blue Crab Publishing
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author and publisher.
 
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
 

 

 
For information contact [email protected]
 

 

 
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and events portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to actual persons living or dead or events are entirely unintentional.
 
Rainey Days © 2010 R. E. Bradshaw
All rights reserved.

 

“
There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state to another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of life.”
 
Alexandre Dumas

 

 

CHAPTER ONE
 
Rainey heard the key turning in the ancient lock, the bolt finally receding with the familiar clacking sound, after much key jangling. The old front door creaked open and closed again, reaching a higher pitch on the return. She heard the sound of the Open/Closed sign, hanging in the front window, as it flipped over and slapped against the glass. Small feet, in heels, clicked across the concrete slab floor. Rainey continued to lie face down on the old, leather couch, her back turned to the new occupant of the room. Instead of rolling over, she took several deep breaths, taking in the scent of her father’s cologne that still lingered on the worn leather.
The aroma of fresh brewing coffee roused Rainey from her morning haze. She rolled over, blinking against the morning sun streaming through the east windows, casting rays through the small dust particles dancing in front of her. She groped for the sunglasses she left on the coffee table in the wee hours of the morning. Once found, the black Ray Bans were hurriedly placed over the area where she was sure her eyes used to be, before the hot stinging coals, located there now, replaced them. Sitting up, she tried to focus her blood shot green eyes on the small gray-haired woman standing by the coffee pot. That was her first mistake of the day, because once eye contact had been made, Rainey became a target.
“It seems the good Lord did not see fit to delay the sunrise today, so that means the office is open at its regular time,” the older woman drawled. “Of course, if you had gone to sleep in your own bed, in that adorable cottage next door, this would not be a problem. But, since you chose to crash on the office couch in your clothes again, it appears you are here and ready to go to work.”
Ernestine Womble had been behind the front desk of the office, as long as Rainey could remember, and showed no signs of retiring anytime soon. Ernie, that is what everyone called her, came to work for Rainey’s father before Rainey even knew who he was. At sixty-seven, Ernie had not lost a step or her looks. Her once free-flowing, blonde hair was now pulled back tightly into a gray bun, but her petite figure had never changed. She dressed that figure immaculately, rain or shine, and her makeup always looked professionally done. Today, she was wearing her favorite lavender power suit with the mood to match. Ernie was one of those women who just got better with age, even though her attitude was a little less than pleasant this morning.
Rainey only grunted in reply. Her vocal chords were not ready to go to work yet and her head felt like it would burst any minute. She slowly untwined her 5’ 10” lanky body and stood on shaky legs. Standing may not have been the thing to do, because it added to the pounding in her head. She placed her hands on both sides of her skull, pressing hard against her chestnut waves, in case the contents did decide to explode.
“Good Lord, child. Sit down before you fall down,” Ernie said, placing a hand on Rainey’s elbow and easing her back down on the couch. “I’ll get you some coffee. You just sit there.” Ernie’s heels clicked across the floor while she muttered under her breath, “She’s going to kill herself, if this keeps up. She is a grown woman. If her daddy were alive, he’d straighten her out, no doubt about it...”
Rainey heard Ernie’s comments, as she was meant to. Ernie was not trying to conceal her disappointment. Rainey had to admit Ernie might be right, because at the moment, she felt as though she might die any second. Too much tequila and not enough sleep were taking their toll on her recently turned forty-year-old body. Rainey felt her stomach roll over as Ernie approached with the coffee. She was up from the couch and out the front door in a flash. She rounded the corner of the building before the contents of her stomach abruptly left her. She bent over, hands on her knees, retching, then the dry heaves set in.
Rainey did not move when gentle hands pulled her hair back. She had not heard Ernie approach, but knew it must be her. She was startled when the deep voice spoke behind her.
“Go on, get it out. You'll feel better.”
“Damn Mackie, you scared the shit out of me,” Rainey said, standing and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
The extremely large, very dark, black man produced a handkerchief from the front pocket of his Hawaiian print shirt. Mackie had an immense collection of Hawaiian shirts that took the place of the ever present black leather trench coat he wore in the cooler months. He handed the soft white cloth to Rainey, as he spoke, “I see you had another rough night. You got to get a handle on your demons, Rainey. You can’t go on like this.”
Rainey retched again then wiped her mouth with the handkerchief and stared up at the large man. She knew he understood demons. He had his own. Miles Cecil McKinney, or Mackie as his friends knew him, had served with her father in Vietnam. His demons came from deep in a far off jungle.
Mackie was a giant of a man. At six feet six inches, he was built like a defensive end, which he had been for the New England Patriots, before he got in a little trouble and had to join the Army. He ended up in Special Forces, where he met Rainey’s father and they became lifelong best friends. Mackie worked with her father until he died a little over a year ago. Her father left Mackie forty-nine percent of the business and he stayed on to help Rainey run the place, as her partner.
“I don’t need a lecture right now, Mackie,” Rainey said, as she walked past the big man and headed back into the office.
Mackie shook his head and followed Rainey. “You are as stubborn as your old man,” he said, as he entered.
“Amen to that,” Ernie called out from behind her desk.
“I don’t need you two ganging up on me right now,” Rainey countered. “I need a coke. Are there any cold ones in the fridge?”
“If you didn’t use them all for mixers last night, there should be,” Ernie replied.
Rainey did not bother to tell Ernie she did not chase tequila with coke and went to the back room to find one, but she could still hear Mackie and Ernie talking.
“Mackie, you’ve got to help that girl. She cannot go on like this. It’s been getting worse lately,” Ernie said, with real concern in her voice.
“I’ll talk to her, but you know this is something she’s got to deal with on her own,” Mackie tried to whisper, but his deep voice carried anyway. “She’s got to come to terms with all that’s happened in her own way. It won’t do any good to fuss at her.”
“Come to terms with it,” Rainey said to herself. She had been trying to do that for a year now and it only seemed to be getting worse. Most of the time she could handle it, but when the nightmares came back recently, she had begun to spiral downward, as she had right after it happened. The drinking kept the dreams away, but left her in her current state, hung-over and dead tired.
Rainey leaned back on the refrigerator. She was downing her second coke when she heard the front door open and close, cutting off the conversation in the other room. Ernie’s chair scraped the floor as she stood up.
“Why Representative Wilson, what brings you to this part of the world?” Ernie was using her best Southern drawl, a sign that this was a “somebody.”
“Good morning, all. It’s just JW to the home folks. I was looking for Rainey. Is she around?”
Rainey stepped out of the back room to see JW Wilson, a high school friend, who had become a State Representative, and was rumored to be moving up the political ladder at rocket speed. JW was always good looking, but Rainey never thought he would grow into such a handsome man. He had the looks and the old money background to make it big. He seemed to be on his way, from what Rainey read in the papers.
“Well, JW Wilson, as I live and breathe,” Rainey said, as she crossed to JW with her hand extended in greeting. “It’s been fifteen years, at least, since I last saw you.”
“Rainey Day, you look as good as ever,” JW said, as he shook her hand.
“Wow, nobody’s called me that in years. It’s good to see you,” Rainey smiled, even though her head continued to pound.
“I spoke to your mother last week.” JW continued, “She’s the one who told me you were out of the FBI and had taken over your dad’s business.”
“I’ve been back here almost a year now,” Rainey said, as she noticed Ernie and Mackie staring at them. “I’m sorry; let me introduce you to Ernestine Womble, our office manager and M. C. McKinney or Mackie, my partner and my father’s oldest friend.”
JW went into politician mode right away. Rainey observed him as he shook both of her office mates’ hands vigorously, looking deep into their eyes as he spoke, “It’s so nice to meet you both.”
The true politician, like Bill Clinton, could always make you think you were the only one in the room. JW had studied at the feet of the masters and was, from all accounts, a very good student. Rainey could see how he was able to woo his public. She smiled at him as he turned back to her.
“Rainey, is there somewhere we could talk privately?”
“Absolutely, let’s step in here,” Rainey said, leading JW to the adjoining room.
Rainey opened the wooden door that divided the rest of the building from the main office. The two old friends entered what Rainey called home base. In the far corner, stood an old, spindle leg, wooden table that served as her desk. All of the furniture looked as old as the building itself. Beside the desk was another smaller wooden table occupied by Rainey’s computer, monitor and printer. In front of the desk were two worn leather chairs, matching the couch in the other room.

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