For The Least Of These (23 page)

“That’s true.
But don’t you have a family that you would want to be with?” For some reason this is the first time I’ve thought that Jack might be married.

“My parents live in Brownsville, Texas.
I don’t have any family in Gulfport, which is where I live. I don’t even have a pet.”

“What about a girlfriend?” I can’t believe this is coming out of my mouth.

“No. No girlfriend either. Does that mean you’re interested?”

I blush at his suggestion.
Especially because he is right on target. I decide it is best to ignore his question. “So where are you staying?”

“I’ve got a room at the Travelodge.
How about giving me your number and I’ll call you tomorrow?”

I give him the number and then he takes off.
I’m unsure where this is going. I don’t know if Jack likes me or if this is still all about his case. Most of all, I wish I knew where Brandy is. I go inside to see if she’s left a message on my answering machine, but there is a big zero glaring at me in red. No calls from anyone today. Guess I’ll turn in.

Sunday proves to be a boring day.
Jack calls, but he is chasing a lead on Adam and can’t come by. He asks if I’ve heard from Brandy, but, of course, I haven’t. I wind up spending the day helping Mom shop for jugs of water, bread, and other supplies in case Ivan the Terrible does show up in Pensacola.

Monday is a much better day, although neither Jack nor I learn anything more about Brandy.
Daddy decides to close the shop so he can focus on the hurricane. He’s convinced it will hit somewhere close to Pensacola. I’m not so convinced, but it is nice to have the day off. Jack comes by to see if Brandy has materialized and we wind up searching for her again. We stop off at her house, but Terry hasn’t seen her since last week. He seems a little concerned, but Jack tells him that he’s sure she is fine. Next Jack wants to see Brandy’s parents. Jack hadn’t had a good experience with them when he stopped at their house on Friday night. He says they acted like a couple of hippies protesting the war or something and they treated him like he was the “Establishment”. I tell him that they are a couple of hippies and that they still think it is the Sixties, but I also assure him that I can handle them.

I knock on the Moretti’s door.
I can smell garlic and basil in the air, so Vince is probably cooking. Vince always cooks when they are having Italian. Stacy’s specialty is home cooking. Both are terrific cooks and that is probably why Brandy is a little chunky. Like me, she can’t resist good food. Vince opens the door. He’s wearing a blue apron that says, “I Like Cats Too. Let's Exchange Recipes”, jeans with a peace sign sewn on the left knee, and carrying a wooden spoon in his right hand. I have to tell you that I’ve always secretly had a crush on Vince. He is just so cute. He still wears his wavy black hair long – it hangs down just below his shoulder blades – and, although he is graying at the temples, he looks much younger than he is. In keeping with his hippie roots, he also wears a goatee which he manicures meticulously. He has a smile that can light up the room, and he flashes it at me now. “Alicia, welcome, welcome. You are just in time for dinner.” Then he sees Jack and his demeanor changes abruptly. “What? You again? Alicia, did this pig bring you here at gunpoint?”

This is clearly going to take diplomacy.
“No, Vince. Jack brought me here without coercion. We are very worried about Brandy. I still haven’t seen her since Friday night.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been hoodwinked by this guy? He wants to question Brandy about some
crime. You know she’s not involved in any crime. Why are you helping him?”

“Vince, please think about it.
Have you seen Brandy since Friday? Aren’t you worried about her? What if she’s in some kind of trouble? Jack is a detective. He might be able to help.”

I’m afraid that Vince is going to tell me to leave.
He appears to be on the verge of chasing us away with his wooden spoon. Fortunately, Destiny intervenes. That’s Destiny, Vince and Stacy’s Italian Greyhound. She comes bounding out the door and starts jumping upon me in an attempt to get my attention. Destiny is a lovely little dog with a parti-colored coat. Her chest and feet are white while the rest of her is tawny. She is very slender and very fast. Most of all, she loves me, and I feel the same about her. As I squat down to allow her to kiss my face, Stacy comes up to the door to see what the commotion is all about. Upon seeing me, she says, “Alicia, dear! It is so good to see you.”

“You won’t say that when you see who she’s brought with her,” Vince said, trying very hard to sound acrimonious and failing miserably.

Stacy hasn’t aged as well as Vince. While she’s still a beautiful woman, her delicate face shows signs of aging: crow’s feet around her blue eyes, deep-set wrinkles around the edges of her mouth, and gray hair where the blond used to be. She’s dressed in a pale blue short-sleeved sweater and blue sweatpants. Her reading glasses are hanging from a chain around her neck. She looks past me to get a look at Jack and then says, “Vince, why do you insist on being so rude to this young man? He’s just trying to do his job. Come on in, you two. Vince has cooked some spaghetti alla carbonara and there’s plenty to go around.”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice.
Vince moves aside and I drag Jack into their cozy home. In many ways, Vince still embraces his heritage, even though he will deny it. Stacy has decorated to subtly remind Vince of the old country while still keeping things fresh – at least as fresh as Vince’s Bohemian lifestyle will allow. Stacy has brightened their home with festive curtains and chair throws that reflect the colors of Italy. Her walls are highlighted by modern art, family photos, and candle sconces. In the living room, a large dream catcher, blue in color, hangs in the corner behind Vince’s old brown recliner. A small table separates the recliner from a beige colored sectional sofa. The table holds a Tiffany-style lamp and two sweaty ice tea glasses. On the end of the sectional closest to the table lies a book, The Time Traveler's Wife, and a multi-colored afghan. Across the room is an old console TV that also houses an AM radio and a functioning turntable. I know that it is the same one they’ve owned since before Brandy was born, but it is in excellent shape – mostly because they seldom watch TV, but also because Vince was a TV repairman before he became a DJ at the Oldies station – but that’s another story entirely.

Stacy leads us into the dining room, and the Italian décor is really prevalent here.
The centerpiece of the room is a rustic farmhouse table – with leaves that pull out to make it large enough for a houseful of family and friends to dine together. Along one wall is a matching China cabinet with glass doors. Both the cabinet and the table had belonged to Vince’s grandmother. She had received them as a wedding gift from her papa, and then she had presented them to Vince and Stacy when they married. The walls of this room are terra cotta, and minimally adorned. A dark wood wine cabinet is situated across the room from the China cabinet, and it is filled with several bottles of wine. A bar separates the dining room from the kitchen, and the air in both rooms is filled with a savory aroma. Amazingly, Vince’s kitchen has none of the dirty pans and utensils that I expect to see. Brandy has told me more than once that he is fastidious about a clean kitchen, so as he cooks, he also cleans up. He is truly amazing.

 
“Sit down,” Vince says to Jack. I can tell Vince is still wary, but being rude goes against his nature. Next, Vince pulls out a seat for me. “It’s not cannelloni but I guess it will do,” I tell him.

“Cannelloni, no.
Cannoli, yes – for dessert, of course,” Vince replies. “And you will love the carbonara. Trust me. It may become your favorite.”

“It all sounds delicious,” Jack comments.

“Humph!” Vince says and he heads into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, he’ll come around,” I assure Jack.

I notice Destiny standing in the doorway. She would love to join us, but Vince doesn’t allow her to come into the dining room or the kitchen. After she takes in the wonderful smells, she retreats to the living room and lies down on her doggy bed in the corner. I can see her from my seat, and every once in a while she looks up at me and wags her tail. She is the most sweet, lovable, well-behaved dog that I’ve ever known. Such an improvement over Mrs. Bojangles and her bad attitude.

Vince brings in the food while Stacy sets the table.
Vince serves the spaghetti alla carbonara right away because it is hot. We are also served a fresh salad with Vince’s freshly made secret recipe Italian dressing. The carbonara is delicious, but then it does have bacon in it. I understand why this is one of Brandy’s favorite meals. After we finish off the carbonara, Vince brings in the cannoli. I can almost see Jack’s mouth watering. He’s barely said anything throughout the meal, just an occasional “This is delicious,” or “Thank you,” and once he said, “Mr. Moretti, you are a wonderful chef.” The cannoli are, of course, outstanding. As far as I know, Vince has never made a single meal that was less than perfect.

“So,” Vince says as we sit letting our meal settle, “Why do you think Brandy is in trouble? She is a big girl and she can take care of herself.”

“She hasn’t missed a weekend with me in years, so it is extremely odd that she hasn’t been around.”

“You don’t think she’s just hiding out because of what’s his name here?” Vince points to Jack.

“My name is Jack.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Vince says sarcastically.
Then he says to me, “Did she show up at work today?”

I felt like a lightning bolt had just struck my head.
I’d forgotten that Brandy would have to work today. What with daddy closing the shop and Jack hanging around, I’d completely forgotten to call her workplace. “Oh my gosh! I need to call her boss. Do you have his number, Vince?”

Stacy answers.
“I have it. Let me give him a call.” She excuses herself from the table and goes into the back of the house. After a brief interlude, she returns looking a little worried. “She called in this morning and asked for a few days off. She said it was an emergency. Of course Mr. Carlson was agreeable, but he was also concerned. He said Brandy was very vague about what the emergency was. Just that it had something to do with that weekend when her car was vandalized. Mr. Carlson thought that maybe she had to testify in court or something and just didn’t want to discuss it. Where in the world has Brandy gone and what is she up to?”

Now Jack seems more concerned than before.
“Maybe it’s time I call in a favor. I know a couple of local deputies. Maybe they can do something. I’m not here in any official capacity – just following a lead as we say – so I can’t ask them to put out an APB on her unless we really feel she’s in danger. They can’t consider her missing either since she called her workplace this morning. By the time she’s considered missing, there may be a hurricane beating down on us. Mr. Moretti, could you make sure Alicia gets home safely? I’m going to head to the sheriff’s office to put this plan into action.”

“Of course I’ll take Alicia home.
Mister…um…Jack, will you keep us informed about our girl? She’s all we have in this world...,” Vince was on the brink of breaking down.

“You know I will, Mr. Moretti.
As soon as I’ve learned anything, I’ll let you and your wife know.”

Stacy and Vince thank Jack, and then Jack leaves.
I wish I could go with him, but I know that is impossible. I’m amazed that I’ve totally changed my opinion of Jack DeVries in such a short time. He is actually starting to grow on me.

Vince drives me home, and another day ends without any word from Brandy.

The next morning I find that Hurricane Ivan moved into the Gulf while I was sleeping. The storm has now turned north, and predictions put it making landfall the next day somewhere near our area. The good news is that Ivan has been downgraded to a category four. At its peak intensity (on the previous Sunday while Mom and I had shopped for supplies), the winds had reached 274 mph making it a category five and earning Ivan the title as the sixth most intense Atlantic hurricane on record. Finding Brandy is suddenly becoming more urgent.

Jack calls to say that his buddies are on the lookout for Brandy.
He wants to know if he can come over and of course I say yes. I get the idea that he’s interested in me, and I like this idea. But all that has to take second place to finding Brandy.

Dad comes over before Jack arrives.
He and Mom are in panic mode. They are worried about each other, about me, and about our homes. If they knew I was planning on driving around with Jack again, they would probably tie me to a chair or something. In order to keep the plan from Dad, I tell him that he should probably get some more gasoline for the generator. He already has several five gallon tanks of gas, but at my suggestion, he says that it wouldn’t hurt to get a little bit more – just in case. Soon he is out of my hair and on his way to the gas station. If I know my Pensacola neighbors, Dad will be stuck at the gas station for hours. Everyone in town is gassing up in preparation for the worst. Unfortunately, most of them won’t decide to leave until shortly before the storm hits and then they’ll be in bumper to bumper traffic for hours. Not to mention that they will have to drive pertinear to Kentucky to find an empty motel room. But at least in Kentucky, folks will know what “pertinear” means.