Killing The Blood Cleaner (10 page)

FIFTEEN

“Good evening and welcome back,” the uniformed doorman said smoothly with an appreciative look at Cindy as he opened the glass door to the Cloister lobby. As they entered, Jack once again noticed the familiar fresh smell and let it stir his happy memories of previous times there. They walked through the lobby directly to the formal dining room. There was a small line of several couples with their well-dressed children. Occasionally, one of the mothers would shake a finger at a slightly rambunctious child and remind the offender to be on his best behavior.

Jack and Cindy stood at the end of the line for a few seconds until the maître d’ caught Jack’s eye. “Dr. Randolph, we have been expecting you,” the maître d’ said heartily to make sure those ahead in line were not too offended by his preferential treatment as he waved Jack and Cindy to come forward.

“Robert, I’m so sorry. We were running a little late,” Jack announced, also playing the game, as he walked past the line with Cindy and followed the waiter to a quiet table by a window with a good view of the chamber music quartet. “Robert, this is lovely. Here’s one of those Presidential Engravings for your collection,” Jack said smoothly as he handed the waiter a sealed white envelope which contained a government issued portrait of President Andrew Jackson which was legal tender for all debts public and private.

“Yes Sir!” the maître d’ responded, retreating gracefully with the envelope in his pocket. Jack could see one of the frazzled mothers looking back at him with a slight pout as she and her brood were escorted to a side dining room full of parents and well-dressed children.

“I see you got us to the grown-ups section,” Cindy said happily as she looked at the elegant couples seated at tables generously spaced around the room.

“I have been in the side room with the mommies and the potted plants many times over many years. And in those days I was pretty likely to disturb dinner by pulling on my sister’s hair or something similar. So it is about time I graduated to this room,” he replied.

“And it looks like you could have a good long run over here,” Cindy said, looking at some of the attractive, older couples nearby who were still obviously enjoying each other’s company. “I do hope you won’t pull my hair.”

“Not until we get back in front of Elvis,” Jack replied with a smile. “Of course, eventually, you do have to go back to the side room,” he continued as he nodded at another family group in the side room, this time with an elegant older gentleman in a vested pearl gray suit who was gently resisting his middle aged daughter’s attempt to tuck a linen napkin into the front of his shirt.

A white coated waiter approached with a substantial wine list. Jack looked at it carefully, finally focusing on the sparkling wine section. “Cindy, you look so lovely I feel like celebrating. Why don’t we do a bottle of this California champagne? I hear they serve it at the White House,” he said, smiling as he touched her hand, with a slight glance at her tanned and freckled bosoms. The waiter nodded his approval and departed.

“What shall we celebrate?” Cindy asked, returning his smile and lightly tickling the inside of Jack’s palm with her finger.

“I think we should celebrate the concept of Elvis in Heaven,” Jack replied after a little thought. “We will culminate the evening in your little Shrine in back of the trailer,” he continued as the waiter returned and presented the vintage in classical fashion with a crisp white towel draped over his arm. Jack nodded and the waiter uncorked the bottle with a subdued pop and poured a touch for Jack to taste. Jack swirled the golden liquid as he drained his glass. “Perfect!” he pronounced and the waiter proceeded to fill the glasses.

“To Elvis!” Jack toasted.

“To Elvis and Heaven!” Cindy lustily replied, extending her pretty pink tongue into the glass.

“All right. Now I want to know where you got your taste for oriental rugs, antiques, paintings and designer necklaces,” he said. “I’m assuming you acquired your taste for Elvis here in South Georgia.”

“My grandmother was a fine, small town Virginia lady. My mother, against her wishes, married a Navy guy who moved us down here to the submarine base. I spent a lot of time with my grandmother when things were bad with my parents and brother. She died two years ago,” Cindy replied.

“Those little towns in Virginia have a lot of ladies who know their stuff and are in command of their world,” Jack said, thinking back to his own elegant Virginia-born grandmother who presided over her small town in Georgia. “What happened to your parents and brother?”

“My dad was killed in a car wreck he caused by driving drunk. My mother died of breast cancer and pain medications. They have both been gone about five years. My brother, Ray, died a year ago in a shark attack while he was fishing. He worked at the bank in Lanier.”

“I’m sorry. I can see you are like your grandmother, a quality lady,” Jack said as he raised his glass in salute. Cindy’s eyes batted back a tiny tear.

“I would like to be,” she said softly as the waiter arrived to take their dinner order. “At least I was able to take care of her in her last days and make sure she was comfortable.”

“Was that shark attack down here?” Jack asked.

“Yes, he was fishing on a Sunday like he regularly did. He always waded off an oyster bank in a little inlet near his house to catch sea trout. Apparently, he waded into a bunch of big sharks that day,” she said.

“That is very unusual. There is so much food for the sharks down here to eat with the trout and mullet and all,” Jack responded, touching her hand. “Cindy, you are a fine lady. It seems you have managed to overcome and move on. But I do think we need to be concentrating on our celebration of Elvis in Heaven,” Jack said, squeezing her hand lightly and looking into her eyes.

“I am in heaven,” she said, looking back at Jack and around the beautiful room. At that moment, the Quartet began to play soft jazz.

“I am going with the Crab Newberg and the blackened local sea bass,” Jack said, looking intently at the menu.

“I’m having the sturgeon caviar from Eulonia and the shrimp and grits,” she responded. “That Eulonia caviar is from right down the road. The local shrimpers kept catching the big sturgeons in the tidal rivers. Then one of them went to New York to learn from some Iranians how to process the roe into caviar. It’s unbelievably good,” she said.

“Yes, the Batson family. Every great restaurant and club in Atlanta gets their caviar from them. I have ordered quite a bit of it myself,” Jack said.

“You have been down here a lot,” Cindy said, slightly surprised at the depth of his local knowledge. The waiter politely nodded as he wrote down their selections and refilled their glasses with champagne.

“Have you ever been married or are you married?” Cindy asked with a laugh. “I should’ve asked that the other night, but things were moving so fast I forgot,” she continued.

“Something about romance with an oyster, as I recall,” Jack said with a smile to Cindy. “No, I am not married and never have been. I was recently engaged, but that is now over. How about you?”

“I was engaged and lived with a fellow for two years. He is a correctional officer at the big prison in Lester. He gave me the dog. He was a wonderful, kind man. I just wasn’t ready to be a country wife. I know it hurt him when we broke up,” she said, as the waiter arrived with dinner. “At least I got to keep Rocco.”

“To Rocco, the race dog!” Jack again toasted. “And to my beautiful, sophisticated country lady,” he said, leaning over the table to kiss her. She leaned forward to meet him, taking full advantage of the opportunity to show off her breasts at the top of her white linen dress. They kissed delicately and briefly, and Jack could see the smiles and nods of the older couples around them. He also did not miss the glimpse of Cindy’s delightful cleavage as each sat back to dinner.

The quartet struck up a gentle version of an old forties favorite as they focused on their dinners. “Are you happy with the Newberg and your sea bass?” Cindy asked.

“Of course, and I love this song. It was my Dad’s favorite. He loved to embarrass me by singing along with it,” Jack said with a fleeting thought to his father and long ago times at Sea Island. With smiles and laughter they enjoyed their dinner until the slight interruption of the waiter inquiring about dessert and mentioning the evening’s specialty, Crepes Suzette.

“Why don’t we get the Crepes Suzettes which are my favorite and Edward VII’s,” Jack said as he looked admiringly at Cindy.

“Yes, and of Suzette, his mistress. The King had his Chef, Escoffier, invent them just for her,” Cindy tossed back.

“That does it. There can be no question that you are a quality lady. I suspect that you and I and the Chef at the Cloister are the only people in South Georgia who are aware of that bit of culinary history,” he said.

It was not long before the waiter appeared with a brass and crystal cart loaded with the preparations for the classic dessert. With just the right amount of subdued flair, the waiter prepared the orange sauce and gently cooked the crepes in a gleaming brass saucepan. With a deft touch, the crepes were flamed. As always, heads turned around the room in acknowledgment of the creation of the famous dessert.

“More champagne, Sir?” the waiter asked as he divided the dessert equally between two china plates emblazoned with the green Cloister logo.

“Why don’t we do one more glass each?” Jack suggested. “We need to take it slow and easy.”

“That is a good idea. I want to head over to St. Simons for some dancing. I don’t want you going to sleep early,” she chided gently.

“Sleep is the last thing on my mind,” Jack replied looking at her lustily. His eye caught the finger bowl with its slice of lemon floating sideways. It could have easily been mistaken for some kind of drink. He looked back at Cindy.

“Jack, I’m not going to drink the finger bowl,” she said, reading his mind, as she elegantly and correctly dipped her fingers in the bowl and rubbed them on his nose.

“Well then, I will!” he said, as he reached with both hands for his finger

bowl and tossed it back, chomping slightly on the lemon slice.

SIXTEEN

The parking lot at the Marsh Tide Lounge was nearly full. The flashing neon flamingo and blinking, out of season, Christmas lights made it clear the establishment was open for business. Jack eased his car into one of the last remaining spots. As he and Cindy were headed for the door he saw Dr. Clayton and Danielle at the corner of the lot.

“Howie, Danielle, what have you two been up to? I was looking for you earlier at the Cloister,” Jack said as he and Cindy waited at the door.

“Danielle wanted to go over to Darien for dinner tonight to get some fresh seafood. It was definitely fresh. The tables are right at the dock with the shrimp boats. You just clean the shrimp yourself and toss the remains down a hole in the center of the table,” Dr. Clayton responded enthusiastically.

“I went there a couple of years ago. It was fun. Sometimes the seagulls can get a little annoying,” Jack said as the group entered the bar. Jack held the door for Cindy who entered first, followed by Dr. Clayton. Danielle dropped her purse and Jack stopped to pick it up. They cracked their heads together as each bent over to retrieve it. After a bit of laughter and apologies, Jack and Danielle entered the bar together.

When Cindy and Dr. Clayton had entered the smoke-filled room, Cindy immediately looked up at the bartender. “Jimmy, I see you have a night job over here at the Lounge. It must be a long day after working at the Ossabaw Crab House,” she said in a crisp tone that conveyed a touch of dislike for the bartender.

“I fill in here sometimes. Might as well get my share of these Atlanta tips.” The bartender then looked at Dr. Clayton and surmised he was Cindy’s date for the evening. The group made their way to a table on the edge of the dance floor as Jack excused himself to go to the restroom.

The waitress returned to the bar with an order for three drinks. “These for the two girls and the guy?” the bartender asked.

“A bourbon and cola is for the guy. The beer is for the lady on the left, and a planter’s punch for your friend, Cindy,” the waitress replied.

“Yeah, my friend, Cindy. I will get them fixed up,” the bartender said, as the waitress walked away toward another table of customers. He reached in his pocket and palmed two small vials of clear liquid, each with a rubber stopper. He poured the drinks and before he placed them on the bar, he deftly popped the top of each vial and poured the contents into the bourbon and the planter’s punch. He carefully stirred each drink with a swizzle stick as the waitress returned and picked up the drinks.

The bartender watched the waitress deliver the drinks just as Jack arrived from the restroom. The bartender watched as Jack put his arm around Cindy and sat in the chair next to her. He quietly hit his fist on the bar, now realizing that Jack was Cindy’s date. He fumbled into his pocket again and was relieved when he found another vial. He had brought another vial, as some recipients needed an extra dose if they were especially large. Looking at Jack’s slight frame he knew that one dose would be more than sufficient.

“I need a brandy and soda for table six,” the waitress said as she returned to the bar. She pointed to Jack who now had his arm around Cindy. The bartender nodded and began preparation of the drink, again adding the contents of the vial, making sure the waitress did not notice.

“There you go honey. I bet those folks will be having a good time tonight,” the bartender said, smiling grimly. The waitress flashed a fake smile, and was gone with the drink.

The band was slowly assembling on the small wooden platform in front of the dance floor. An ancient upright piano was on the platform as a permanent fixture. The musicians slowly unpacked their instruments and amplifiers, all of which showed the wear and tear of many years of low-level Saturday night entertainments.

Cindy glanced around the room several times, looking for the red sweater. “Are you expecting a friend?” Jack asked on her third visual tour of the room.

“Well, yes. I always see people I know here. I just want to show you off a little,” she replied as she spotted a small middle-aged man across the room wearing a red cardigan sweater. She then noticed an athletic young woman in a tight red sweater take a seat at a table across the dance floor.

“Danielle, have you sold Howie a condo down here yet?” Jack said with a broad smile, now suddenly feeling witty and bright as he sipped his drink. He also noticed the unusual glowing smile on Dr. Clayton’s face as he sipped his half full bourbon and cola.

“I am ready to buy the whole island!” Dr. Clayton responded happily, putting his arm around Danielle.

“And I will sell it to him,” Danielle replied.

The band settled into place, making the usual instrument checking sounds which indicated that the music was about to begin. A tall, thin, older white man positioned himself at the piano. He wore a white polo shirt and a yellowing white linen jacket which looked as though it had spent most of its years crumpled in a ball. The man pecked at some of the higher keys of the keyboard, apparently testing them. Jack noticed that Cindy was carefully watching the entrance of a college aged couple who were both wearing red University of Georgia sweaters. Jack watched as she then moved her glance to the middle-aged man and the young woman.

“It looks like there are quite a few University of Georgia folks wearing their red and blacks tonight,” Jack commented.

“You’re right. I really didn’t think of that. On any night there are usually a lot of Georgia fans wearing red. Maybe green would have been better. But you know, right now, I am feeling happy and sweet and not really caring,” Cindy replied with a slight slur and a broad smile. “I’ve got my Dr. Jack and everything is just right,” she said, giving Jack a hug, as she felt in her pocket to check to make sure she still had the thumb drive. She felt relieved when she touched the small ball of the drive wrapped carefully in tissue. “But maybe I will just talk to all of them until I find the right one,” she rambled on, as she briefly thought to herself that she was feeling odd.

“What do you mean green?” Jack asked as the band suddenly began to play with a roar of music that drowned out his words. Jack turned and saw that the piano player had exploded into action. His wrinkled white coat now flashed from the glare of the one spotlight which hung precariously from a rafter in the ceiling. The light also lit up the green and red glass gems which endowed the several rings on his slender fingers which were now moving rapidly across the keyboard. Jack watched as the man stood and kicked away the piano bench, all the while continuing to hammer the keyboard as he tossed back his yellow mane of hair.

“Let’s party!” Dr. Clayton yelled as he waved his arms wildly. Danielle smiled at him and sang along demurely. Jack squinted at his friend, surprised at such enthusiasm, and looked over at Cindy who was also singing loudly and waving her arms in the air. He took a long pull on his drink and settled back into his chair. In a few seconds he began to have a feeling that the music was personally talking to him. As a doctor, there was a fleeting logical thought that this reaction was something more than mere alcohol. But this thought was like a brief flash of lightning in the face of a warm, happy rising storm.

“More piano!” Dr. Clayton now shouted as the band switched into another old favorite. He grabbed Danielle by the hand and was out on the dance floor. Dr. Clayton then proceeded to perform a medley of ancient dances beginning with the funky chicken which culminated with a somewhat jerky shag, with unsettling tango influences. Danielle appeared to be having a good time, but was having difficulty keeping up with her deranged partner.

Jack watched his friend with approval as he felt a great cloud of cosmic happiness and universal communion rising up inside him. These glorious feelings were interrupted by the hot and erotic intervention of Cindy passionately kissing him and running her hands through his hair. Again, a distant and tiny rational voice warned him that there was a problem with this behavior in a public place. However, this voice soon faded in the face of Cindy’s amorous attentions. The thought entered his mind that now would be a fine time to pull down the top of Cindy’s dress and get a really good look at her tanned and freckled breasts when the band stopped playing. Dr. Clayton, Jack and Cindy all winced at the sudden cessation of the music with which they were all reverberating. They stared quietly as the band walked off the stage for their break. The upright piano sat empty, still illuminated by the harsh light of the spotlight.

Even in his highly amplified state, Jack was surprised to see Dr. Clayton stride up to the stage and after retrieving the bench, position himself in front of the upright piano. The microphone was still on and attached to the amplifier, so when Dr. Clayton reached over and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Flight of the Bumblebee,” his words boomed out across the establishment. Everyone, including the bartender, bouncer and waitresses watched and waited. At once, Dr. Clayton with a great flourish began to play the difficult classical masterpiece. He played it perfectly and its substantial power was only increased by the amplification provided. Cindy became swept up in the music and played an imaginary air piano with rapidly moving fingertips as she accompanied Dr. Clayton. Jack also felt the power of the music and shook his head in time with the ringing notes from the piano.

When Dr. Clayton was finished, everyone in the audience jumped to their feet and applauded. “Classical, baby, classical!” Cindy shouted almost incoherently while she gave Jack a fierce hug. Danielle watched and clapped, amazed at her date’s proficiency on the piano. Dr. Clayton strode in triumph back to the table to the applause of the entire room. “You were so good!” Cindy said. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

“My mother made me take piano lessons from elementary school through high school. I took a few of my own when I was in college and medical school. I play for myself and I rarely play in public, except for recitals over the years. Today I just wanted to get the music out,” Dr. Clayton said as he returned to his seat. “Usually I am too shy to play in front of other people. I think Danielle has put something in my drink, but I’m not complaining,” he said smiling at Danielle.

Jack finished his drink as he laughed out loud. “Howie, I assure you, that’s the first and last time that Rimsky-Korsakov has been played at the Marsh Tide Lounge,” he said. “I feel so good if I could play an instrument I would’ve been up there with you,” he continued. Cindy was now groping him enthusiastically under the table as she delicately pushed the tip of her tongue into his right ear. Suddenly she stopped, her eyes fixed on a figure across the room.

“What the hell is Major Knowles doing over here on St. Simons?” Cindy said excitedly. Jack turned to look in the direction indicated by Cindy but saw no one.

“Cindy, who is Major Knowles?” Jack asked as he continued to scan the room. “What does he look like?”

“Oh it doesn’t matter. He is my boss at the Sheriff’s office,” she said. “Let’s get on out of here. But I don’t want to go straight home. I know a place where we can chase ghosts,” she continued, again groping Jack under the table as she spoke her words wildly into Jack’s ear with an occasional tongue poke for extra emphasis.

“What will we do if we catch a ghost?” Jack asked as he took her hand and they headed for the door.

“We will fuck them, of course. And I get to go first,” she explained, with a wicked laugh.