Chapter 1

My name is name is Elliot James Barnes. Everybody who knows calls me EJ. I guess I got that name because I hated Elliot. When I was young I thought it made me sound like some prep school dork. Now that I am older, I wish I had been a prep school dork.

My father had tried everything he knew to convince me to go to college. Instead I went into the Air Force. Fortunately for me it was between wars. There weren't even any skirmishes during my four years.

I spent the time as a military policeman on a fairly unimportant base. I mostly pulled guard duty, either on the flight line or on the entrance gate. Almost all first hitch airmen do it that way. I answered a few disturbance calls in the on base housing units, but not many. I even worked on a drug sting. I did that exactly once. The four years were pretty much a waste of my time. My father had warned me that they would be a waste. Maybe for the only time in my life I agreed with him.

I tried college when I came home. I found it to be pretty much irrelevant to my world. I had heard all the reason for me to be in school. They just didn't stand up to the reality of what I was doing. I just couldn't figure out the need for me to know the structure of a tree. I had no plans to be a gardener.

I was fed up with school, but had no idea what else to do with my life. I made that discovery about two weeks before the recruiting letter came from the Atlanta police department. They sent them to several of the military policemen after their discharge.

Atlanta is a bitch of a town. Nobody in their right mind wants to be a cop there. The only hope the city father had was to find people like me. People who knew nothing about the town. It helped if they didn't know anything about anything else either. I fit the bill perfectly.

I had a relatively short and unevently stay in Atlanta. I was there for thirteen years. In that time I worked about every assignment in the police department. I was competant at them all. I don't think I excelled at any one thing.

Two things happend during my thirty fifty year on this planet. One my father passed away in the spring. I guess I had that, and maybe other things on my mind a month later when I fell off the top of a building. Actually I didn't fall off the building. I fell into the building. I was chasing a burglar over the roof. He had removed the air vent to gain entry into the drug store. I chased him across the roof then back again. He ran past the vent hole and I ran into it. My fall was slowed by the 'drop in' ceiling or I might have been killed.

My luck, such as it was, ended there. I fell on top of a display of some kind. I am certain of only one thing. It was filled with glass bottles. I landed face down on the display. I took a bottle in my right eye. It broke inside my eye.

I stayed in the hospital for a week while the doctors assessed the damage. They came to the conclusion that I would never see from my right eye again. There wasn't even a way to transplant the damaged eye. The glass had done a number on me

I opted for a half pay medical retirement. It took me exactly two days to sell the things I couldn't get into my old Ford. I left the same night on which the buyers picked up my old furniture.

The drive was long and tedius but I refused to stop until I was back in North Carolina. When I crossed over the state line my heart felt lighter than it had in years. I was headed home. I think I knew then for the first time how much I had really missed home. At the same time, I felt a deep sorrow that my father hadn't lived to see me return home. He had always hoped I would come back to stay.

I left the interstate highway outside of Charlotte. I drove the smaller but less traveled state roads home. It took me a long time to make that drive but I didn't mind. I reveled in the sights and smells of rural North Carolina.

I remember that it was hot that night. I chose to drive with the windows down rather than use the car's air conditioner. I was soaked in sweat within twenty minutes but it was worth it. I breathed the air which was almost clean. Compared to Atlanta it was sanitized. I smelled the sweet smell of vegitation that had been only a memory hours before.

It was hard for me to believe the feelings which ran through my mind and body. I found that I had to fight myself to keep the car at sixty miles per hour. I wanted to fly so that I might reach home sooner. I had planned to spend a few hours in Wilmington before I continued on home. I almost decided not to wait.

I knew that I should. There was little sense in arriving home in the middle of the night. I forced myself to turn toward the much larger city of Wilmington. Wilmington was my second favorite town in the whole world. My smaller home town beat it out, but only by a hair.

I drove into Wilmington over some really fancy bridges. I even passed the Battleship North Carolina. I got a good look at the old lady. She was a marvelous sight even in the dark. Deep shadows hid any defects she might have. I saw the same sight which I am sure many sailors saw from smaller ships. She was shrouded in mystery by the darkness. Just as she would have been during the blackouts of World War II.

I continued on to the intersection leading to Carolina Beach. If I had made the right hand turn I would have found myself there in about thirty minutes. Instead I turned left. The road took me into the heart of Wilmington.

I wanted to drive through the town. I wanted to remark to myself how much the place had changed, since I came here with my high school buddies. I turned right on Market street and headed to Wightsville Island. As I drove the six or so miles, I got to see just how much the town had grown in seventeen years.

The downtown itself hadn't changed all that much, but the areas just outside of the downtown had changed a great deal. New restaurants and small retail stores were everywhere. Some of the old restaurants had changed names and others had just disappeared. It still had the same small town atmosphere at four a.m. It probably would seem different with the tourist running around during the daytime.

It would be different still, in the evenings when they took over the nightspots. My favorite time in Wilmington had always been winter. The tourist were gone after labor day. At least most of them.

After labor day it was locals, fishermen, and high school kids from the nearby towns who supported the businesses. In my days the drinking age had been eighteen. I was lucky enough to possess a fake Id card. All during my senior year of high school, I could be found in one of the clubs in Wilmington. Those were the last of my carefree days.

The drive to the island was too short. I hardly had time to remind myself of those days before I was came upon the draw bridge over the inland waterway. I was forced to stop on the land side while the bridge was up for a merchant ship of some kind. Probably a tug, I thought.

During my wait, I looked down the parallel road by the waterway. I could see a couple of new restaurants built on the land side of the waterway. I could also look across the waterway and see the high rise condominiums. Most were dark at this time of the morning but a few had lights burning. Tourist who never slept probably.

When the bridge returned to its down position, I drove across to Wrightsville Island. It had always been my favorite place in Wilmington. One had to be carefull not to allow the locals to overhear it being referred to as part of Wilmington. The island had it's own town council and police department. They were a totally seperate community. It would always be part of Wilmington in my eyes.

I crossed the bridge, then made a bee line for Johnny Mercer's pier. I found a parking space without any trouble. It wouldn't be that easy later in the day. There would be fishermen, and tourist fighting for these spaces come daylight. The fights would continue till one or two in the morning. By then the palm room would be in full swing.

In the palm room, you could buy only beer. At least, it had been that way seventeen years ago. Now you could probably buy a mixed drink in the bar area. No telling what you could buy in the bathroom.

I passed by a closed restaruant, as I walked to the pier. Once on the pier, I walked into the snack bar which blocked the pier entrance. A sleepy eyed, middle aged woman sat on a stool behing the counter. She looked up when she sensed my entrance. I could see the curious look on her face.

The deep scar and black patch, had that effect on everyone. Especially those I met for the first time. She arose from her stool, went to the cash register, then asked, "Can I help you?"

Her words weren't friendly, but her accent was wonderful. She had to be a life long resident of this area.

"Yes ma'am, I would like a large black coffee." I asked with the sweetest smile I could manage. I found these days, it was the best way to reassure people. Some people said I looked like a pirate with the patch and all. Others say I look like the villian in a bad movie. Either way, I didn't want to scare the woman into an early heart attack.

The smile worked. Or maybe it was my own accent. "So, you aren't a tourist are you?" she asked.

I know how the locals feel about tourist. The prevalent feeling is that they are a necessary evil. An evil, to be relieved of the heavy burden of their cash. Otherwise they are to be avoided like the plague.

"No, Ma'am, I am on my way home. I just thought I would stop for a cup of coffee. Kind of visiting the scene of my misspent youth." I confided in her.

The woman was bored, and I looked like a temporary diversion. "So you don't live her anymore?" she asked.

I smiled again, "To tell you the truth, I didn't yesterday, but I will after today. I have been gone seventeen years, but I am moving back today. I am here killing time till my family wakes up. I didn't want to scare hell out of them in the middle of the night."

"My name is Hally," she said extending her hand to me.

"EJ," I said as I took it. "So, Hally anybody catching any fish tonight." I tried the coffee while I awaited an answer. It was reasonably good coffee. Not the best I had ever had, but far from the worst. "Good coffee," I interjected before she could answer my question.

"Thanks, fishin is only so, so. Sometimes it is good and sometimes it isn't so good. The coffee though is always good." she said with a broad smile.

"Mind if I take this out on the pier?" I asked motioning with the coffee cup.

"Naw, go right ahead." She seemed a little reluctant to see me leave.

I walked the hundred or so yards to the end of the pier. I stood looking out at the ocean for a while. I looked around and found a bench not completely covered with fish scales. Once seated, I looked out toward the ocean. It is strange but I could never keep a practical thought while gazing at the waves rushing toward the shore.

Somehow it just didn't seem right to worry about work, or even women while looking at the vastness of the ocean. My thoughts drifted to my father for a while. My dad had worked on the docks all his life. He didn't even live to retire. He just dropped over dead in his fifty seventh year. I felt both sorry for him and glad that he went so easily. I have seen a lot of men die, going out all at one time like that is the best way I know. It beats the hell our of cancer or some of the other lingering deaths around these days.

My father and I were never really close. It didn't matter any longer, I still missed him. More, I guess, for the things we might have done, more than for anything we did together.

My mind naturally drifted to my mother. Mother had always been the steel backbone of our family. She raised my sister and I. My dad was either working or busy in his shop. He never really knew how to talk to my sister or I. It didn't matter we loved him for his strength. Mama was even stronger. I could only guess how she and Sissy were coping with Daddy's passing.

I smiled when I thought about my first meeting with Mama and Sissy. Both had been told that I had been injured. I had allowed no one to discuss the nature of it with my family. I couldn't bring myself to worry them. Not so soon after daddy's death. My scars and patch were going to be a real surprise to them both. Another reason not to wake them in the middle of the night.

Sissy had written to me, that mama had gone back to work shortly after daddy's funeral. She didn't think mama should have done that. I guess sissy was a little more more upset than mama. Of course, mama knew what she was doing. After all, she knew daddy a hell of a lot better than either sissy or me.

When I looked at my watch, I discovered that I had time for one more large coffee before I continued on home. I strolled back to the snack bar. Hally greeted me with a smile this time.

"More coffee, EJ? she asked.

"Sure, this time give me a cup without a hole in it." She looked at me very seriously for a moment. She finally realized that it was a joke.

"Since that last one had a hole, there is no charge for this one." she said with a grin. I noticed her teeth for the first time. They were crooked and yellowed by cigarette smoke. Her smile didn't do much to make her more attractive.

"I appreciate that, So what is going on down here these days?" I asked. Conversation was going to be the coin of the realm for a while.

"Nothin' much, You wouldn't be looking for a job would you?" She asked.

"Not a chance, I came home to be a beach bum." I answered.

"Good for you. We need more of those around here." she giggled.

"Got a few already?" I asked.

"You bet, so may kids hangin out on the beach, you can't even walk your dog." she said with that toothy smile again.

"I sure as hell ain't no kid. What do you call a middleaged beach bum? I asked.

"We don't. At your age, you would be just a plain old bum." she said again with a grin.

"What kind of work is there around here?" I asked.

"You can be a waiter or you could work in a hop-in." she said getting a little more serious. "Of course with that face of yours, you could be a pirate. No offense?" she asked.

"None taken, I just don't have enough money for a boat. I guess it is the 7-11 for me." I said with a smile.

"I kind of doubt that. You look more like someone who should be a bouncer in a bar." she said grinning again.

"Not me, I hate violence. I think I will go back to the beach bum idea." I said with a smile.

"Just to change the subject, are you married EJ?" she asked.

"No, you lookin for a husband?" I asked.

"Hell no, I done had me two. Neither one was worth the powder to blow his ass up." she smiled but without as much enthusiasm. "How about you. You ever been married?"

"Once, that was enough for me. I don't think, I will be trying that again soon." I said.

"Sure you will. Men ain't no damned good at all without a woman." she said much more seriously.

"You could be right. Then again, my ambition in life is to be no damned good." I chuckled.

"You look like you been that already. Probably time for a change. You look around, you will find yourself a good woman. She will change your mind. God put us women on this earth just to whip you men into shape." she said. I notice her smile, a kind of wise assed smile.

"Well, Hally the conversation has been good, but I got to move on down the road. I'll be back another night." I said.

"You do that EJ. It has been real nice talkin to you." she said extending her hand again.

"Thanks for the coffee," I said as I took her hand.

The drive home took another hour. I probably could have made in half the time, had I not been day dreaming. I tried to cram the first eighteen years of memories into that extra thirty minutes. I of course couldn't.

I had always marked my arrival in town when I passed Simpson's service station. The station no longer belonged to old man Simpson, Not even to his son Andy. These days it was a convience store run by some Yankee company. Almost all the small business had been sold to some yankee chain these days. The old south was being whipped again. This time in commerce.

Sure we have a few giant companies owned by us, but not nearly as many as the carpet baggers. Don't get me wrong, I really don't mind. I don't care who gets the profits from my gasoline purchases. A fact is still a fact. The chain stores has decimated small business in the south. The decendents of families that once turned a small profit, now work for minimum wage in their father's old store. Now, of course, it has a shiney new front and shelves stocked with instant landfill.

I by passed all the burger joints, who now sold biscutts, most of which were inedible. I continued on till I saw the Memphis restaurant. A beautiful old name for a run down old diner. I parked in the small dirt parking lot beside the building. The Memphis had been in existance since before I was born. I could remember my parents dressing my sister and I for a dinner out. We would on those rare occassions, drive the half mile or so to the Memphis. Old Mister Sloan must be dead by now. I hadn't been inside the restaurant in seventeen years.

It was only seven a.m., still the restaurant was packed. I found an unoccupied, small two person booth by the window. I sat myself down and waited. The place was rocking. It took the waitress a few minutes to get to me. When she did it was with a big smile and a menu.

"You need a couple of minutes?" she asked.

"No, I know exactly what I want. I want two eggs over medium, link sausage, and grits?" I said smiling up at her.

"Toast or biscutts honey?" she said with a smile. She didn't seem to notice my scars and patch.

"Biscutts, no honey," I replied.

She gave me another big smile and small laugh. Then she turned to fight her way through the crowd.

While I waited for my breakfast, I looked at the faces around me. I had hoped to spot someone I knew in the sea of humanity. I could see the faces of about half the people. Some even looked vaguely familiar. I wasn't comfortable enough in my recollection to speak to any of them. I knew I would be embarrassed, if they were not people I had known.

Breakfast came with another smile from the waitress. She gently placed the plates on my table then slipped away. The food was good, but not as good as I remembered. It was still a great deal better than the food I had been eating in Atlanta. I never cooked, so I was at the mercy of the chrome and glass monstrosities calling themselves restaurants. Even worse, these days everyone down there had gone to fat substitutes. They might add a couple of years to your life, but the price paid was awful tasting food. Bland beyond words, was the way a restaurant critic had expressed it. She had my vote.

The food here, at least tasted like real food. I could lose my taste for the cardboard food of Atlanta real quick. It is one of the many things about Atlanta I wished to forget. I am not sure there was anything about Atlanta that I wished to remember.

I finished breakfast much too quickly. I had been sitting in restaurants too long. I stood to leave. I dropped a dollar bill on the table, turned toward the cashier's counter, when I heard the voice. It was a woman's voice.

"Ej is that you. It is you. What the hell happened to that beautiful face?" she asked.

The woman was about ten feet from me and advancing steadily. I didn't recognize her immediately. She was around five two, white, blonde shoulder length hair, plain buy not ugly by any means. I know the discription is right off a cop radio. I couldn't help it, I had too damned many years thinking that way. "Lucy, is that you?" I asked stupidly.

"Of course it is me. My God EJ, what did they do to you down there?" she asked.

I was a little embarrassed by her directness. It didn't help any that everyone in the place stopped eating to stare at me. "I had a little accident on the job. Nothing too serious. What the hell are you doing these days?" I asked.

"Me, I work for old Sam Slade. You remember Sam?" She saw that I didn't. "You know the lawyer." she said.

"Oh yeah old Sam," I still couldn't place him. "How is he doing?" I asked pretending to have some idea who she meant.

"Oh, Sam is still alive. That is about the best I can say for him. He has had a couple of heart attacks, but he still comes to the office for an hour or so. We have a couple of new people in the office now. Look EJ, I got to run. Why don't you stop by the office. I think you might enjoy meeting the new lawyer."

"I really don't care much for lawyers. I might stop by, just to let you fill me in on all the dirt." I said with a smile. My smile worked magic even with the scarred face. People had always responded well to my smile.