Death by Facebook (11 page)

He
was still a handsome man. Time had done him the same favors it
seemed to reserve for every other middle aged man: the touches of
gray in his hair, the fine lines in a slightly tanned face and the
sparkling eyes that still hinted of promise.

Stopping
her thoughts before they took her any further beyond reality, she
finally tasted what made Burr's so famous. The ice cream, with
fountain soda fizzing around every sweet molecule was surprisingly
good.

The
large diameter straw was perfect and she glanced over at him again,
feeling giddy now, the ice cream moving her to grin. Just then, he
stood up, waved his hands a bit and smiled over at her.

“
Everyone,
everyone, please,” he was saying, trying to get the table's
attention. “I have an announcement.”

Agatha
became one with the ice cream, and froze.

~~~

Alex
took the stool next to Larry. The Lava Lounge was unusually noisy.
As he looked around he saw all the regulars, then he saw the
headlamps.

“
Who
are those guys?”

Larry
leaned back a bit to check them out again. “Tourists. Or
escapees, not quite sure.”

“
Thanks,
honey,” Alex said as the bartender slid a perfectly frosted
Lava Lager in front of him. “Been waiting on this all day.”
He took a full minute to slowly down the entire contents. “Another,
por favor!”

“
So,
did you get those boxes sorted out?” Larry asked.

Alex's
eyebrows rolled a little. “Yeah, it looks like we have files
from twenty years ago in that storeroom. Amy came in a bit early so
I was able to finish up quickly.

“
Hey,
did you get that telegram to Private Turner?”

Larry
looked over at the bartender and nodded. “I gave it to a guy
who said he was Private Turner, but we were just talking about that.”

Alex
frowned in confusion and took a short swig of his second beer.
“Funny thing that guy. His Sergeant was telling him to get his
ass back to Ft. Bragg and Amy just told me he extended here for
another week.”

Larry
stared at Alex for a moment and then over to the bartender.

“
No
way!” Larry and the bartender both exclaimed in perfect unison.

“
What's
this about not being so sure it was Turner?” Alex asked with
just the slightest hint of trouble in his voice. He could hear the
Sergeant yelling at him from some far off place.

The
bartender turned to get the ten gallon bag of roasted macadamia nuts
and proceeded to refill all the bowls at the bar, while keeping her
ear finely tuned to Alex and Larry.

“
Look,”
Larry recited. “I left your office after talking to you,
walked out and around the corner and saw what I thought was Private
Turner come out of Cabin #94. Dressed in khakis, boots, Army issue
jacket and an Army ball cap. I ran up to him, saw the short hair,
asked if he was Turner and he said yes.” Larry took another
long drink of his rapidly disappearing beer. “So, I told him
it was important and put the telegram right into his hands.”

Alex
grabbed enough of a handful of macadamia nuts that the bartender came
back around and refilled the bowl a second time. “So, what's
the problem? Sounds like you did it to me.”

“
Yeah,
well, everyone in this bar is telling me that guy is no guy. Our
illustrious bartender says so. One of the headlamp guys over there
tried to pick her up.”

Alex
cringed a bit at that.

“
Well,
in his defense, it was before she cut all of her hair off.
Apparently last night she was quite the looker. But, tonight she
looked like any other farm boy recruit ready to ship out.”
Larry shook his head a bit.

Alex
studied his beer a few moments, captivated by the impossibly infinite
supply of bubbles rising to the top. “Strange. But hey,”
he raised his mug toward Larry in toast. “Another Lava Lounge
mystery eh?”

Larry
smiled, raised his mug and tapped Alex's mug so hard it made the
bartender look around. “To Private James Turner, wherever he
may be.”

~~~

The
table of middle aged revelers at Burr's soda fountain finally calmed
down a bit as he stood there waving his hands lightly.

“
What
is it Adam? Do I need another drink first?” One of the guys
was asking above the din of the place.

“
No,
no more drinks quite yet,” Adam said.

Agatha
finally moved her head enough for the ice cream filled straw to fall
back into the tall elegantly carved glass. “My God,” she
thought. “Is he going to embarrass me with some kind of
reminisce?”

“
Look,”
Adam said, beaming toward Agatha. “We all came back to Burr's
tonight for a special occasion. Yes, the ice cream is worthy of a
road trip, but tonight I want to introduce an old, but apparently not
so old, friend of mine.”

He
held out his hand toward Agatha.

She
stood up to take it, wishing with all her might that he would keep
this short. Public displays of anything, even friendship were quite
beyond her pain threshold at the moment.

“
Back
when I was younger and my friend Agatha was still as beautiful I
drove an old '72 Camaro to the high school dance one starry, starry
Friday night.”

Adam
raised Agatha's hand a bit and then gently let it go, allowing her to
sit back down, a few shades redder.

“
It
was by far the best night of my life!” Adam remained up but
reached down for his half full glass of ice cream soda. “A
toast if you will...” He paused for everyone to raise their
glasses. Agatha smiled as she did.

“
To
the graceful nature of time that lets us occasionally enjoy again the
highlights of our youth.”

A
rousing clinking of glasses followed with several cheers from the
other men.

“
Now,
someone move over so I can sit next to Agatha,” Adam demanded
in a friendly tone. “We have some catching up to do.”

Agatha
watched him move in next to her, almost as if they were both sitting
in the back seat of that Camaro again. Close and comfy.

“
I
thought you were going to just kill me standing up and introducing
me, Adam.”

“
Oh
that? Sorry, but if I didn't say something all those other guys were
going to ask you out.”

She
laughed lightly at the compliment, something deep inside her heart
exploding clear and bright with happiness. Remembering their
favorite dish she asked “Shall we order the apple pie?”

Adam
reached under the table and gently took her hand. “Of course,
my dear. Let's save the best for last.”

14

North
Carolina was not known for its balmy winters, especially this
particularly frigid December 15
^th
.
The twenty five men and women lined up in the cold 0600 morning air
appeared to Sergeant Johannson like so many steam vents. Their
breaths floated above them in an ever increasing fog.

She
walked up the line, two deep, barking out the last names in roll
call.

“
Beninate?”

“
Aye”
was the answer, forceful and strong.

“
McHenry?”

“
Here!”

“
Samson?”

“
Aye”

“
Turner?”

Silence
followed, then the soft ruffle of necks turning inside of tight
collars against the cold. The rumor was out that Turner was still in
Hawaii, and despite the attraction of that thought at this moment,
everyone knew it to be big trouble for the Private.

“
Turner?”
Sergeant Johannson yelled more forcefully.

No
answer.

“
God
dammit Turner!” Johannson swore, then continued down her list.

“
Yamaguchi
?”

“
Here!”

~~~

I
hovered, as best I could make out, above Janet's fitfully sleeping
form all night. Try as I might I couldn't read through the rapid
bursts of static and noise coming from her dreams. She had risen
twice during the darkness to throw up. Shivering each time, she
crawled back under her covers into a fetal position, snoring with
exhaustion.

At
daybreak she roused herself, dressed in my clothes again, pulled on
my Army cap and made her way to the cafeteria. She had to, there
wasn't anything but beer cans in the refrigerator.

Showing
my military ID card to the cashier, she loaded up on scrambled eggs,
toast and steak. A large ice tea and ten packets of sugar, a fork
and knife and two napkins filled the rest of the space on her tray.

I
wasn't sure why I was so interested in her every movement, but I was.
For some reason I couldn't quite fathom there was an intense need
for me to keep an eye on her.

About
the time she was finished with her breakfast she stumbled and fell
twice on her way to the bathroom. I was curious which one she would
have gone into but she didn't make it halfway. She was throwing up
blood right before she passed out.

Five
minutes later she was in the KMC infirmary getting her temperature
taken and about to get her shirt removed. The nurse there had read
my dog tags around her neck, made note of them and turned back to
find her sitting up, staring with eyes redder than my friend the
lava.

“
Hey
there soldier. You had a bit of a spill. Are you feeling any
better?” The nurse, a big football player type, asked the
question in a relatively demanding tone. He was a civilian
volunteer.