Memory Lapse: A Slater Vance Novel (2 page)

“Please don’t change, it
suits you, Tuck.”

He was stopped from
giving a snappy comeback by the appearance of Doctor
Hyram
Groder
. The cosmetically enhanced, blonde-haired
doctor’s face lit up when he saw the Father sitting with his patient. His
perfect white teeth were a testament more to his dentist than his parentage.

“Father Vance. How good
to see you. How are things? Are you still trying to put me out of business with
the Big Guy upstairs?”

Grinning at the doctor,
Tucker responded, “Always.”

Without looking at the
woman, the doctor asked Tucker, “So how does she seem today?”

“I think you can ask her
yourself. She seems to be feeling better… and so chatty, it’s annoying,” he
grinned down at her.

As the doctor’s glance
moved from Tucker to the woman, his disposition seemed to change. A look, of
what only could be called disgust, washed over his features before he masked
it. The doctor walked to the foot of the bed and examined the woman’s chart.

Without looking at her
again, he asked almost gruffly, “So how are you feeling? Outside of the normal
pain associated with your injuries, are you having any problems?”

“No,” she whispered,
blushing at his blustery disposition.

“Remember anything yet?”
he asked almost skeptically.

Keeping her head bowed
and her eyes lowered, she again answered quietly, “No.”

“Okay, well if you keep
going the way you are, you should be able to leave soon. The police came by
this morning and would like to talk to you this afternoon. I told them it was
okay with me,” he said briskly.

Tucker felt the woman’s
hand tremble beneath his at the doctor’s words and manner. He wondered why the
doctor would treat her this way. Tucker gave him a questioning look when he
glanced his way. But the doctor just pressed his lips together noncommittally.
After making a note on her chart and giving Tucker a pat on the shoulder,
Doctor
Groder
left the room without another word.

Patting her hand, Tucker
asked soothingly, “Do you want me to stay with you until the police come?”

“I’ll be all right. You
don’t have to stay,” she answered in a small voice.

“Well as I wasn’t able to
get all my prayers finished with all this chattering going on, I think I’ll
just stay and finish up, if that’s okay with you.”

With a sigh of relief,
and eyes glittering with unshed tears, she nodded wordlessly. She closed her
eyes when Tuck did, and prayed just as fervently as he, that all would be
revealed and maybe, just maybe, she’d finally remember something… anything.

Someone clearing their
throat jarred the sleeping woman awake. Blinking, she was surprised that she’d
not only fallen asleep, but that Tuck was still sitting beside her. How long
had she been asleep? Carefully turning her head towards the door, she saw a
black man in a brown suit standing just within her door. The man was huge. He
had to be close to seven feet tall and must have weighed over three hundred
pounds. She might have been frightened had she not seen his shiny gold badge
clipped to his belt under his huge, overlapping belly.

As was his custom with
everyone, Tuck gave the man a huge smile and stood to shake his hand. And as
with everyone, he seemed to know the man.

“Bridge, good to see
you,” Tuck exclaimed.

The big man drew Tucker
into a quick embrace. He towered over the priest in both stature and girth.

Almost solemnly, Bridge
responded, “Padre, how long has it been? I don’t think I’ve seen you since
Magdelina
was
sick.”

 
“I didn’t know you made Detective.
How exciting.”

 
“Yeah, I got my stripe almost a year ago.”

 
“That’s wonderful. How is
Magdelina
doing? She has to be getting so big,” Tuck enthused.

“She really is. It meant
so much to us that you came, Father. We’d not have gotten through it without
you,” Bridge said with sincerity.

Embarrassed,
and still holding Bridge’s hand,
Tuck turned towards the hospital bed.

“Bridge, this is the
little lady you’ve come to see. We’re hoping you can provide some much-needed
information for her.” Looking at the woman on the bed, Tuck continued, “This is
Detective
Thompson Bridges, the
finest man you’ll ever meet,” Tucker exclaimed, emphasizing the man’s title
with pride.

Moving towards the bed,
Detective Bridges stretched out a hand and lightly clasped hers.

“Is it true that you
can’t remember anything?” he asked, smiling gently.

Giving him a shy smile,
she said in her raspy voice, “I can remember some things, like colors and
numbers, and how to read. I even know who the President is, but I can’t
remember anything personal. Do you know who I am? Is there anyone looking for
me?”

Tucker touched the
woman’s arm. “I’ll leave you in Bridge’s good hands, okay?”

“I’d really like for you
to stay,” she said, raising startled eyes to him.

“Of course, I just didn’t
want to intrude.”

Tucker moved behind
Bridge to allow them to talk.

Detective Bridges reached
inside his jacket and pulled out a small notepad and flipped it open with
practiced ease.

“I’m afraid there’s not a
lot I can tell you. When we found you at the accident scene, you didn’t have
any identification on your person or in your car. We ran the car to see who it
was registered to. Does the name Honey Luscious mean anything to you?”

“Honey
Luscious?
No,
should it?”

“Well that’s who the car
is registered to. I’m assuming, as you were driving the car…” Detective Bridges
let the sentence hang.

Rolling the name over in
her head, she almost wanted to vomit.

“Do you think I’m
…
Honey Luscious?” she asked hesitantly.

“Well, I’m not sure. We
did a search and there was a Honey Luscious who lived in the next town over.
She… well…” Bridge hesitated and glanced quickly at Tucker, “she was a working
girl, if you know what I mean.”

She blinked her eyes
rapidly. “I’m… a prostitute?” she exclaimed incredulously.

“We haven’t been able to
secure any family for you… or Honey Luscious, as the case may be. It seems
she/you used to work for a pimp named Zeke
Zagoria
.
Does the name ZZ Top mean anything to you?”

“Just the band,” she
replied, flabbergasted.

“I’m a little worried, as
word on the street is
Zagoria
and Honey had a falling
out. She… or you… this is confusing… wanted to work for herself and
Zagoria
had a problem with that. So apparently there’s bad
blood. I just don’t want to stir up any trouble for you if you are Honey
Luscious. Right now, all we know for sure is that you were driving a car
registered to a Honey Luscious. We checked with the DMV, but they don’t have
anyone with a driver’s license with that name, or we’d have a picture.” the
Detective said.

Chapter 2

Slater Vance dropped the
envelope stuffed with cash on Bennie’s desk. In his line of work, it was always
best to deal in cash. Checks had a tendency to bounce once people’s lives had
been exposed and shredded. Glancing around the office, he wondered where Bennie
had gotten off to. There were two things he liked about Bennie: her
punctuality, and the fact that she hated men… not that she liked women any
better. But at least he didn’t have to deal with the complication of a
secretary who he was either tempted to chase around the desk, or one who wanted
to be caught.

With one more glance
around, Slater opened the drawer to Bennie’s desk and slid the envelope out of
sight for now. He knew Bennie would take care of it once she came in. As he
walked down the hallway to his office, his eyes caught, as they always did, on
the pictures lining the hallway. Each picture revealed a different set of men,
all dressed in military garb, posing in front of a different plane or chopper.
He certainly missed his Marine Special Operations Corps (MARSOC) days. That was
where he truly belonged, where he should have stayed. But, sometimes life had a
way of turning things upside down and around. He’d learned that lesson at the
tender age of thirteen.

Slater removed the 9mm
from its holster and placed it in the safe. As he moved to his desk, he stopped
at the huge picture window, which overlooked his domain: Charleston. It seemed
that as much as it changed, it stayed the same. Charleston was rich both in
history and controversy; which did wonders for his business. From where he
stood on the fifteenth floor, he could see for miles. He liked it up here, far,
far removed from those scurrying around in their chaotic lives.

The ringing of the phone
broke into his contemplations. Moving around his desk, he simultaneously sat
and reached for the phone, knocking over the plant Bennie had given him earlier
in the week for his thirty-second birthday. Rock and dark, rich soil scattered
across his desk.

Swiping the dirt into the
trashcan, he answered, “Slater Vance.”

 
“Hey, Slate. It’s your brother… the Father,”
Tucker said using their old running joke.

Grinning, Slater
responded, “Hey Tuck? What’s up?”

“If you bothered to come
to mass, you’d already know and wouldn’t have to ask,” Tucker responded, still
from their old running script.

“Hey, guess how many
Baptists it takes to change a light bulb?” Slater asked.

“I don’t know, how many?”

“Change
?…
there’s no change with the Baptists.”

Tucker laughed, “I’ll be
sure to slip that one in on Sunday. Of course, I’ll insert Catholic instead of
Baptist.”

“Of
course, because you’re all so interchangeable.”

“All one God, Slate, all
one God.”

“So what can I do for
you, brother of mine? Is this a social call, a checkup call, or a ‘what I need
from you’ call?” Slater asked with a grin.

“Well now that you
mention it, I do actually need to pick your brain about something. Not so much
as pick your brain, but get your take on something. Do you have time to meet me
somewhere tomorrow afternoon?”

Flipping quickly through
his appointment calendar, he replied, “Yep, I think I can. What time and
where?”

“Two o’clock at Bay General?”
Tucker asked.

“Why do you want to meet
at the hospital?”

“There’s someone I need
you to meet,” Tucker replied.

Cringing, Slater said,
“Please tell me this isn’t either a fix-up or a stray.”

“I wouldn’t put it that
way exactly,” Tucker said with a smile, and then more seriously added, “Slater,
this is important to me, okay?”

Slater sighed internally
and begrudgingly replied, “Fine, I’ll meet you there.”

Irritated at being drawn
into something he knew he wasn’t going to like, Slater slammed the receiver
down into its cradle. The force caused the picture frame sitting next to it to
tumble over. He reached over and carefully lifted and straightened it back into
place. Tenderly, he ran a finger over the glass to trace the woman’s face
smiling up at him. His glance fell from the shiny blonde-haired woman to the
equally blonde girl nestled between her legs. Slater ran a hand over his chest
at the momentary catch he felt there.

There was one other photo
on his desk; it was older and faded from the passing of many years. Picking it
up now, Slater drew it towards him to stare at the people smiling up at the
camera as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The picture had been taken
when he was just a boy; almost twelve. It was the year Tucker had graduated from
high school and his parents had bought the lake house. His parents had
persuaded the realtor to snap a picture of the four of them to commemorate the
day. It’d been a good day, one of the last few they’d had as a family.

◊◊◊

Sitting at a candlelit table
in Charleston’s famed
LeBerg
Resturant
,
Slater Vance
studied the woman across from him over the rim of his wine glass. Devon
Montgomery was an extremely beautiful woman. She was tall, brunette, thin – but
curvy in all the right places, smart, successful, and well-spoken. Devon owned
one of the most prominent art galleries in town. She would have made any man an
amazing wife. Fortunately for Slater, she wasn’t in the market for a husband.
She said she could provide everything for herself and only needed a man for one
thing; and Slater was currently the man providing her with that.

“And so I told Roma, if
he wanted a genuine
LaCross
painting, then he had to
be willing to pony up the money. But he is such a cheap bastard,” she said with
a grin.