Saltwater in the Bluegrass (19 page)

Well, you get the point; they were “perky.”

Kristina and Sally had met a few years back in Sally’s first husband’s office by accident. He was doing the “tuck and roll” on Sally in one room, while in another room he was trying to perform the

“roll and tuck” on Kristina.

It was lifestyles of the rich and famous.

After a couple of loud screams as Kristina dropped Sally’s husband with a left hook, it did not take a lot of introductions by either girl to become long-lost friends and drinking buddies.

Texi and I had decided to order fish sandwiches on rye with coleslaw and a couple glasses of iced tea and see what happened before we moved in. We wanted to see if anyone else was going to show up to meet Sally.

The Paper Boy
was
loaded
,
and within minutes of its planned departure, had taken off and climbed to cruising altitude. The plane had lifted off from the number three runway, leaving Brazilian soil for the last time with Lamar Ingram as its honored guest. As the jet climbed, Thomas could see the eastern coastline of Brazil. Below, he could see the coffee fields and the shoreline. Then at the northeastern-most point of Brazil, he would see only water for hours and then it would be dark.

At six hundred and thirty-five miles an hour, the flight should take no more than thirteen hours to fly from the Rio de Janeiro International Airport to Atlanta, then one more hour to Louisville. In approximately fourteen to fifteen hours, Lamar’s body would be home.

Thomas had called ahead to Katherine, telling her when they would land and to have the funeral hearse and a limousine waiting at the airport.

Katherine had said she would be at the airport waiting when Thomas arrived home and looked forward to seeing him. She was again very appreciative that he had gone to Brazil to get her brother. Thomas settled into the comfort of his expensive ride home. Plush leather seats, coffee tables, television, stereo compact disc player with head phones, sectional couch, two recliners, telephones, wet bar with kitchen, fax machines, and copiers. A regular business office in the sky, he thought.

This plane had all the amenities of a lavish home, but there was one problem; it was not home. It was not his chair, it was not his couch, and it was not his television. Elle was not here sitting beside him, comforting him. This was one plane ride he wished he was not alone on.

Back home in Atlanta, Thomas’s son and daughter had both made it home for the party and a quick stay before returning to their lives elsewhere. The invited guests had arrived, and the party was over as quickly as it had started, vanishing from the backyard as a distant memory.

In Kentucky, Charlie had
spent
his first night back in the bluegrass over at Jenny’s place near the campus in Lexington. They had wandered in late and were in no condition to drive any further. By afternoon, dressed in a pullover sweatshirt, khakis, loafers, no socks, and shades, Charlie was on his way home, heading west and determined that this time he would make it at least to his family’s driveway.

The night before was still vaguely visible in his brain and the smell of Jenny’s perfume was still lingering on his sweatshirt and in the air of the Jaguar.

Flashbacks often made their way in and out of Charlie’s mind, especially in the late afternoons after getting up. He was well known for drinking heavily and partying with great enthusiasm. He relished his friends and hated being by himself. Charlie had been away from the islands for two days now and was already missing the feeling of hot sand on his feet.

As he drove west, he continued thinking about the lifestyle that he had made for himself away from this area and was wondering why he had returned. He could smell the salt water, feel the breezes, and taste the rum drinks some two thousand miles away.

It was not his passion for life as much as it was just something that he was running from, something in his past, something that drove Charlie, something that continued to drive him away from the family, time after time.

Charlie had his way, and instead of stopping and asking someone for help, he just kept his days in overdrive, going as fast as he could and hoping sooner or later he would just drive right off the edge. Jenny found it simply effortless to let go of her upbringing and show her contemptuous party side when Charlie was in town. The two of them had closed down many establishments in their day, and together they would either both fizzle out, blow up, or die young trying. Jenny was the fuse in Charlie’s stick of dynamite, and she knew how to light him up.

It was just a matter of time.

Katherine was sitting
in her father’s rocking chair on the porch reading the
Wall Street Journal
when she heard Charlie driving up the lane. As the car stopped, Katherine stood up, put down the paper, and watched as her brother opened the car door and got out.

“Hello, little brother,” Katherine said as she started down the steps.

“Hello, Katherine.”

“Good to have you home. Are you going to be staying long?”

“No, probably be leaving after the funeral.”

“That’s too bad.”

In the back of Charlie’s mind, he had no intention of staying around here any longer than he had to. He was not welcome, and this little welcome wagon Katherine was pretending to give him was futile. Carlton had heard Charlie pull up and walked outside through the back screen porch door and gave Charlie the only real welcome he would get.

“Hi, boy; good seeing you.”

“Good seeing you too, Carlton,” Charlie said, giving him a strong, warming hug.

“It’s been lonely around here without you. Sorry about your brother.”

“I bet it has. Thanks.”

“Mrs. Kimball is in the kitchen making you some iced tea with lemon, just like you always liked.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“So, how you been feeling?” Charlie asked.

“I’m good. It’s been hard around here with Lamar, you know, being gone.”

“I know.”

“Katherine,” Charlie asked, “how is Lamar’s body getting home?”

“Thomas is bringing him home, on
The Paper Boy
. They should arrive soon.”

“Thomas is a good man. He loved Lamar like a brother. That was a good move, Katherine.”

“I thought you would approve.”

“I’m sure you’ve considered my thoughts with every move, Katherine.”

Charlie knew there was still good in Katherine somewhere. It just did not come out enough to become habit-forming with her. She was born a few bricks short of the compassion wagon.

Thomas had been in the air
for what now seemed an eternity. He was no longer over water. He felt comfortable now seeing the ground outside his window. The pilot had descended to twenty thousand feet and the fields of the Midwest were now ever-more present in his view.

Thomas remembered the last time he and Lamar had flown to Myrtle Beach on their yearly golfing trip. Five days, thirty-six holes each day on classic courses. Heather Glen on the first day, a linkstype course with pot bunkers twelve feet deep. On the second day, they had gone to Bay Tree.

On the third day, they went to Brink Landing, a target-type course. Water was on both sides of the fairway and around the greens on seventeen out of eighteen holes. They had to drive into town that night and load up on a few dozen balls to replace all the ones they had lost. The golf gods had opened their hands and stolen all their shots, but what a treat it was to play.

The fourth day, they had played Sea Trail, another picturesque course, and on the last day they had played eighteen at the National Course and eighteen at Marsh Landing. It had been such a fun trip. This year they had planned to go to Pine Hurst to play the number two course in September and then visit the Golf Hall of Fame. Thomas closed his eyes and knew it would never be the same. Katherine had made her way to Bowman Field in the company limousine. She had called to confirm that indeed there would be a funeral hearse from White’s Funeral Home waiting as the corporate jet flew in.

Within minutes of the plane landing, she was out of the limousine and waiting to meet Thomas as he exited the plane. Katherine was not the only person there to meet Thomas. From the other side of the limousine, the door opened and Elle stepped out to greet her husband. Thomas was tired from the flight, beat from the time change, and hammered from the emotions he carried with him for three days, but he sure was happy to see his wife.

“I thought this might make you feel better,” Katherine said.

“Hi, Tommy,” Elle said as she gave him a big hug and kiss. “I sure did miss you.”

“Me, too,” he said. Then he turned to Katherine, “Thanks, Katherine.”

“It was the least I could do,” Katherine replied. “By the way, Charlie is home.”

“He is? That crazy kid. When did he get in?”

“Oh, he got home a couple of hours ago.”

Katherine, Thomas, and Elle followed behind the hearse as it made its way down Taylorville Road and turning into the White’s Funeral Home parking lot.

Mr. Parker greeted them at the door and invited the three of them in to see where the viewing would take place. They went upstairs to work through the details while several of Mr. Parker’s associates wheeled Lamar’s body into the bottom half of the building to get him ready for the viewing. Within twenty minutes, all the documents were signed and everything was settled.

Katherine had the limousine driver drop Thomas and Elle off at the Baxter House, where she had made them reservations for the next week, with the tab and all expenses being picked up by the company. Thomas and Elle stepped out of the limousine, and with the help of the bellman walked up the steps into the hotel, disappearing from Katherine’s view.

“Tyler,” Katherine said in her back-to-reality voice, “I need a drink, and the sooner you get me one the longer you might have this job.”

“Yes, madam. I am on it as we speak.”

“Good. You learn quickly; I like that.”

The limousine sped away and within ten minutes was parked in front of The Brewery, and Katherine was easing back a shot of scotch.

“Take me to Ingram Towers. The last thing I want to do tonight is see my brother.”

“Yes, madam, I’m on it”.

“By the way, young man, what type service projects did you do to become an Eagle Scout?”

“I am no Eagle Scout, Mrs. Ingram.”

“Yeah, and I’m no saint.”

“You’re not?” the driver replied.

“I just might have to put you in for a raise tonight, if you get my drift,” Katherine said.

“Loud and clear, madam,” Tyler replied. “I’m on it.”

“No, not yet, your not.”

“What is that, madam?”

“I said you’re not on it yet, so shut up and drive.”

It became a lot clearer
after a couple of days of being in Louisville and driving along the Ohio River that life and the people in these parts are of a peaceful nature. Hospitality, morality, and honorable principles of life permeate the southern culture, outweighing the Ingram family’s thoughts of dominance and illusion. The Ohio River Valley bluegrass can quickly take hold. At least it did me. It can make you wish that life would just slow down and let you enjoy the surroundings, something I am sure the natives probably encountered before George Rogers Clark entered this area in 1778.

As I worked my way up and down the banks of the river, I came to understand the river and its lifestyle. I watched as the 1914 sternwheeler
Belle of Louisville
left on its daily run. Once again, I could see what lured Mark Twain to spend so much time writing stories about these great inter-coastal waterways. I remembered from my early days reading that Mark Twain was born in Florida and only moved to Hannibal, Missouri, to be with his family. It came to reason that he must have been a man with saltwater in his veins. I began to understand the true beauty in the river, the mystic splendor, and grandeur of this powerful natural wonder. As the local folks told the story, the Ohio River is not unlike its bigger brother, the Mississippi River, in strength and attractiveness. It starts in Pittsburgh, formed by the Monongahela River and the Allegheny River, dividing Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, on the north from West Virginia and Kentucky on the south. In size, the Ohio River is generally 1500 feet wide and is 981 miles long. The largest cities along its banks are Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and Louisville. All three cities grew in the 1800s, largely through the use of the river as a transportation route, mostly shipping bulk products, coal primarily, up and down the river in large barges and paddle-wheel steamers. The Ohio is one of the two main tributaries of the Mississippi River flowing westward.

I couldn’t help but feel the allure of the area. I stood alone on the bank for several minutes watching the river traffic go by.

Dennis Raggert and Steve Terry
were considered major players in the Louisville business world. Both were long-time acquaintances of Katherine Ingram. The riverfront expansion project had propelled these two men and their company, The Cardinal Steel Company, into the forefront of contractors and engineers in the area. Their expertise was in high-rise building structures and steel girder expansions, while their passion was in the diversification of funds and the zest for over billing on projects governed by the city’s Board of Aldermen. Their hidden agenda was enthusiasm and knowledge.

At this point it was unknown to the public that both men held very close ties to organized gambling in the area. On-and off-track betting, especially in the Louisville, Lexington, and Cincinnati areas, had been very lucrative over the past fifteen years. Large amounts of money had been won, lost, and moved around through different channels without the authorities catching on.

Both Dennis and Steve had grown up as underachievers but had drawn on their talents and raised their stature in the community to one of importance, all this while keeping their lifestyles and their friendships quiet.

Links to Jerry Mason Matteria and Chris Bagono McCroick, two of the more powerful heavyweights in the area, had helped, especially when it came to laying down big money on different local sporting events. Matteria and McCroick had helped The Cardinal Steel Company receive contracts on large expansion projects deemed necessary by the city.