A Shred of Evidence (7 page)

“If you don’t have a close relationship with her, I can’t imagine she would open up on something that sensitive,” Cynthia said. “But someone needs to protect that little girl. Her mother obviously isn’t.”

“How do I start?”

“I guess you’ll have to report the situation to the police. Or social services.”

“That seems drastic since I don’t have proof.”

“Come on, Ellen. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. You could always confront Ross’s employer since he seems to know what’s going on.”

Ellen put her elbow on the breakfast bar and rested her chin on her palm. “I hate to go behind Julie’s back. What if Ross gets fired?”

“I’d be more concerned about getting an innocent two-year-old out of his clutches. I wish someone had rescued me.”

“I definitely have to do
something
. But there’s a lot at stake here. I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

“Why don’t you sleep on it? You’re too compassionate and too principled to let this go. Once your head is clear, you’ll do the right thing.”

“Thanks, Cynthia. I’ll talk it over with Guy, too. He’s a good sounding board.”

Gordy Jameson rode his bicycle to Hank’s Body Shop and spotted Billy Lewis wiping down the garage door. “Hey Billy, how’s it goin’?”

“I am fine, Mister G. How are
you
do-ing?”

Gordy patted his young friend’s shoulder. “I’m good, Billy.
Have you seen Eddie?”

“Yes, I have. Ed-die is leav-ing now.” Billy pointed to a white truck parked along the curb.

“Thanks.” Gordy ran over to the truck. “Hey, Eddie. Wait up! Captain told me what you said at lunch. Did you ask Hank about this Hamilton character?”

“Not yet. I was going to, but he left early He and the missus drove over to Panama City to pick up her new car. I told you something was wrong. The guy’s spooky. Makes me mad Hank hired him, knowing what he is.” Eddie traced the letters on his steering wheel. “I guess we’re supposed to just sit around and wait till some kid goes missing.”

“You
sure
you heard Hank right?”

“Positive.”

Gordy shook his head. “Doesn’t seem like Hank just to blow off somethin’ like this.”

“Yeah, well Hamilton’s
family
. People do weird things to cover up family secrets.”

Gordy pushed away from the truck and stood up straight. “I wanna hear what Hank has to say. Why don’t you give me a call after you talk to him? I’ll be up late.”

“I will.” Eddie rolled up his window and pulled away from the curb.

Gordy went over to Billy who was wiping down the door to the garage. “You’re workin’ mighty hard over here.”

“Yes, I am. Mister Ord-man pays me.”

“I talked to your dad this morning and he said you’re lookin’ for more work. I’d sure like to hire you to keep things clean on my back deck. You interested?”

“Yes, I am. I would do a very good job—an
ex-cel-lent
job.”

“How about you come talk to me in the morning at eight-thirty—show me what you can do? We’ll work out your salary and schedule.”

“Oh, yes,” Billy said, his eyes wide and animated. “I will
come.”

“Great.” Gordy shook Billy’s hand and slapped him on the back. He hesitated and then decided it couldn’t hurt to ask. “Whaddya think of Ross Hamilton? Does he seem like a nice guy?”

“He does not talk to me.”

“How come?”

Billy shrugged. “Maybe because I am slow.”

“Slow? Why you’re the whiz kid when it comes to clean.” Gordy delighted in seeing Billy’s face light up the way it did when he was little. “See you in the morning.”

Ellen sat in the chair in her bedroom, her mind reeling and her emotions in turmoil.

“There you are.” Guy came in and sat on the side of the bed, his hands clasped between his knees. “Sorry it took me so long to surface, but I can’t believe how much I got done. How’re your fingers?”

“About the same. But that’s the least of my worries.”

“What’s up?”

“You won’t believe what’s going on.”

Ellen told Guy about the conversation she had overheard at Gordy’s, and about her subsequent conversation with Cynthia.

“I have the sickest feeling that Julie knows and that’s why she’s depressed.”

“Good grief, Ellen. You really know how to pick them.”

“You think I wanted
this
?”

“Take it easy, I’m just kidding. What are you going to do?”

Ellen rested her head against the back of the chair. “I’m driving myself crazy trying to decide. I don’t have the courage to talk to Julie. I don’t think I could handle her reaction. She’s either going to be devastated or hopping mad. But I can’t simply turn my back on Sarah Beth. Someone has to fight to get that child removed from what’s going on.”

“What’s
allegedly
going on.”

“You don’t have to correct me, Counselor. I’m well aware I’m walking on eggshells here. What do I do?”

“I agree with Cynthia. Seems reasonable to talk to Eddie’s boss.”

Ellen’s stomach felt as if an army of ants were marching inside it. “I dread sneaking around behind Julie’s back. How did I end up in the middle of this mess?”

“Far be it from me to say, ‘I told you so.’ But you won’t be able to leave it alone until you’ve satisfied your conscience.”

Gordy Jameson sat back in his chair, his feet on the ottoman, and took a bite of peach ice cream. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV just as the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Gordo, it’s Eddie. Hank’s dancing around the Hamilton issue. Says I overheard him wrong. Well, I
didn’t
. He says Hamilton’s his nephew, and that’s why he hired him. Told me to back off and mind my own business. I get the feeling he could make my job miserable if I bring it up again. What’s he hiding?”

Gordy stuck his spoon in the ice cream left in the carton. “Maybe he’s not hidin’ anything. Is it possible you misunderstood what he meant in the telephone conversation?”

“No way.”

“Then maybe you should talk to Will about it.”

“What’s the point? Your friend the police chief thinks I’m a troublemaker since I got into that fight down at The Cove.”

“You never could hold your liquor, Eddie. Sounds like you’ve had one too many tonight.”

“I tipped a few. So what? Doesn’t mean I’m not right about Hamilton. I’m not done with this. Far as I’m concerned, Hamilton can move his perverted little mind somewhere else.”

G
ordy Jameson stood at the window, skimming Saturday’s newspaper while he observed Billy Lewis scrubbing the last of the umbrellas on the back deck. He waited until ten-thirty, then opened the back door and went outside. “About ready to call it a morning?”

Billy’s head bobbed, perspiration running down his temples. “I have no more tables to clean now. I did an ex-cel-lent job.”

“You sure did. Look how bright these umbrellas are without all that mildew.” Gordy ran his hand across the plastic table. “Spotless. Good job, Billy.”

“I am a hard worker, right Mister G?”

Gordy put his arm around Billy’s sweaty shoulder. “The hardest. I’d like to hire you to come in a couple hours in the mornings. Whaddya think?”

Billy smiled. “I think yes.”

“How about Monday through Saturday from eight-thirty till ten-thirty? That shouldn’t interfere with your schedule at Hank’s.”

“Oh, yes. I can come.”

Gordy shook his hand. “It’s a deal then. Oh, by the way, did Ross Hamilton show up at the body shop this morning?”

Billy nodded. “He was there. Ed-die does not like Ross Ham-il-ton.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Ed-die called Ross Ham-il-ton a name I do not understand. I heard Mr. Ord-man yelling at Ed-die. I could not hear all the
words, but Mr. Ord-man was not happy. I do not like yelling.”

“Well, try to stay out of their way,” Gordy said. “I’m sure the guys will work it out. I’m glad you’re gonna be on my crew, Billy. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

Ellen pulled her Thunderbird behind a blue pickup and turned off the motor. She looked into the garage at Hank’s Body Shop and saw Eddie with his head under the hood of a black sports car. He glanced up but didn’t act as though he recognized her.

Ellen rehearsed what she planned to say, then got out of the car and went into the office and up to the customer service window.

A bleach blond in jeans and a tank top put out her cigarette and rose to her feet. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I called earlier and was told Hank would be here until noon. I’d like to speak with him, please.”

“Wait here. I’ll get him.”

Ellen looked around the waiting room and read the service policy posted on the wall, signed by
Hank Ordman, owner
. She perused the framed photographs of the service crew. Eddie Drummond looked to be forty-five, give or take. Ross Hamilton appeared to be much younger. And rather harmless-looking. Clean cut. Dark hair. Mustache. The kind of face a child might trust.

A door opened and a gray-haired man dressed in blue coveralls came into the waiting area. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Hank. What can I do for ya?”

“Is there a place we could talk privately?” Ellen said.

Hank stared at her a moment. “You sellin’ somethin’?”

“No, this is a personal matter. I won’t keep you long.”

“All right. Follow me.”

Ellen followed Hank through the business office and into a smaller office.

“This private enough?” he said.

“Actually, would you mind closing the door?”

The ridges on Hank’s forehead deepened. He got up and shut the door, then sat at the desk facing Ellen. “Okay, who
are
ya and what’s this about?”

“My name is Ellen Jones. I realize this is awkward, Mr. Ordman, but I stumbled upon some troubling information about one of your employees, Ross Hamilton, and feel a moral obligation to see if there’s any truth to it.”

The old man dropped his head and shook it from side to side. “You reporters just never give up, do ya?”

“I’m not with the media,” Ellen said. “I’m just a resident who overheard a private conversation. Someone said he heard you on the telephone and the implication was that Mr. Hamilton is a child molester. If it’s true, I feel an obligation to be sure he’s registered as a sex offender.”

“Yeah, and who would this person be who
overheard
me talkin’?”

“That’s really not important, it’s either true or it isn’t.”

“Ya see, that’s the trouble. All that he-said-she-said malarkey ain’t worth anything.”

“Are you saying it’s not true?”

“Lady, first off, it’s none of your business. Second, I ain’t givin’ you ammunition to put this boy through anything else.”

Ellen was glad a gush of cold air came out of the ceiling vent. “Honestly, I’m not trying to hurt the man. I don’t even know him. I just—”

“You just what—wanna protect the public? I’ve heard it all before. So who’s gonna protect Ross and his family, wanna tell me
that?”

Ellen felt the color scald her cheeks. “Actually, that’s exactly my concern—that someone should be looking out for his little girl.”

Hank sighed and shook his head again, then rose to his feet. “We’re done. Git out.”

“Sir, are you protecting a pedophile?” Ellen said. “You know I can’t just drop this.”

“Well, you ain’t gittin’ me to help you.” He held open the door. “You can leave the same way you come in.”

Ellen went in the house and looked down the hall to see if the door to Guy’s study was closed. It was. She got a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and sat at the breakfast bar.

If Ross Hamilton wasn’t guilty, why hadn’t Hank Ordman answered her question instead of rudely talking around the issue? There had to be a way to find out. Ellen left the kitchen and went up the winding stairs to the widow’s watch. She turned on her laptop and got online.

She pulled up Google, and then with the forefinger of her left hand pecked out, “r-e-g-i-s-t-e-r-e-d s-e-x o-f-f-e-n-d-e-r-s F-l-o-r-i-d-a,” and hit Enter, surprised at the long list of pertinent information options that appeared on the screen. She scrolled down till she found the Florida Sex Offenders home page, then clicked on to the site and typed in Ross Hamilton’s name and the county. A long list of sex offenders and predators appeared.
No Ross Hamilton
.