Pulling his sunglasses down his nose a bit, he said, “You know what I want, Martinez; for Silverton, Ohio to once again be an equal opportunity for small bidness owners. Whatchu want, my man?”
Taking a deep breath, he looked back out at the bay. “Steve Robinson is getting released from prison this week.”
Stopping himself from finishing his last bite of perch, he placed it back into the Styrofoam container, wiping his hands with a napkin. “So, it’s true?”
“Yep. What I need to know is, who helped him. He just had his parole hearing last week. There is no way he would have been approved and scheduled for release this fast without some kind of help. There’s a dirty cop somewhere and I need details. I need a name.”
Cleaning up his mess on the table, Miles laughed out loud. “A dirty cop? Naw, man. You trippin’! Dem’s hard to come by. Ha ha! Dirty cop,” he repeated while shaking his head. As he headed to the large trash bin, Martinez walked in front of him.
“This isn’t a joke Miles. I know Robinson’s release affects you too wit’ your bidness and all.” He grabbed the container from Miles and tossed it in the trash. “Get me the dirt on Robinson’s release. I’ll get Mr. Henry doing business again downtown.”
Miles looked Martinez in the eyes knowing he could count on his word. “A’ight. Bet.”
Chapter 11
Martinez slowly pulled into the cemetery drive off Bogart Rd. and kept his speed below the posted 10 mph. Elizabeth sat quietly as the sacred monuments rolled past them, the sun gleaming off the granite and marble. An old man sitting on a cement bench caught her eye. He appeared to be reading a book aloud. Possibly to his long lost wife, buried under the earth just feet in front of him. She thought of her parents. At least they’re together.
Feeling the sadness in the air, Martinez turned to see Elizabeth gazing out the window and asked, “Hey, you okay?”
Shaking off the heavy feeling she snapped out of it. “Sure. Just not much for graveyards, ya know?”
He was angry with himself for being so insensitive. “Damn, Liz. I’m sorry. Do you wanna go back?”
She shook her head negatively. “It’s not your fault. Honestly, I didn’t think I would be bothered so much. It’s just a little hard seeing so many symbols of peaceful sorrow. It’s so contradicting. You can’t possibly be sad and know peace at the same time.”
Never giving it much thought before, he understood her point. “I suppose not.” Just up over the small hill he noticed a line of vehicles with funeral flags clinging onto their front ends and a large group of people hovering over a grave as a metal device lowered Pam DeFranco’s casket into the ground. He pulled off to the side of the road and put the car in park. “Maybe a peaceful sorrow isn’t such an oxymoron. I mean the dead are at peace. It’s only the living who are sad. The two actually can co-exist, however unfair that may be.”
She propped her elbow on the inside of the doorframe and rested her head in her hand. “Hmm. You may be onto something there, Angel. But it seems very unfair.”
Reaching around to the back seat, he grabbed the plastic bag from Silverton Fish Company with two Styrofoam meal boxes and set it between them on the console. Elizabeth looked at him strangely. “I thought I smelled perch.”
He winked. “I told you I was just taking my girl to lunch.”
Taking another look at their surroundings, she said, “I hate to say, I’m really not that hungry at the moment. Sorry.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “No worries.” He pulled a sandwich out and grabbed a napkin. “But please don’t consider me an insensitive jack ass.” He took a large bite out of the sandwich, which left a smidge of tartar sauce in the corner of his mouth before he wiped it away. With a mouth full of perch he said, “Looks like the family is starting to filter out.”
Elizabeth watched as all the people walked away from the gravesite back to their vehicles. Brandon DeFranco was arm in arm with an older woman. She figured her to be Brandon’s mom or possibly the mother of the deceased. “Those poor people. It’s just so tragic. Do you think he did it?”
Gulping down some of his soda, he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Too soon to tell at this point. Of course, if Pam was sleeping around and got knocked up by another guy, couldn’t be a better motive. Well, I take that back. Samantha Brown could be another nail in the coffin. No pun intended.”
Her forehead crinkled together. “Samantha Brown?”
Raising his chin towards the people he said, “See that foxy little chic in the black dress with the long black hair walking behind Brandon?”
She smirked and flexed her eyebrows at him. “Foxy huh?”
“Well she is!”
Elizabeth squinted as if it helped her see better from a hundred feet away. “I guess I’ll take your word for it.”
“I’m guessing she and Brandon have a thing. She called herself his work wife.”
“Well that doesn’t make any sense. If they were both cheating on each other why kill Pam? Why not just get a divorce and they both be on their merry way?”
Pointing a French fry into the air like a conductor wand he said, “Exactly, my dear Watson!”
She flirted with him with her smile, loving the fact he found such comfort in a character born to him out of such a terrible childhood. One that obviously played some type of role in who he became.
Chewing his last bite, he stuffed the remnants of his food and container back into the bag and crunched it up, throwing it into the back seat. “You know, even though I was busy with the investigation this weekend, why did it seem like you
