CHAPTER 33
SIGHTSEEING
John Cross parked, just outside Sue Anne’s room at the Seahorse Motel, while she changed her clothes. It had been a surprise when, what she had assumed to be a poor penniless artist, had a car that turned out to be a green Porsche 911, Carrera convertible with a tan leather interior. Although it was not new, she still thought it must be worth at least $70,000. In fifteen minutes she had changed into white shorts, that showed off her long-tanned legs, and a yellow halter top, that complimented her long blond hair.
When she stepped out of the motel room, she could see that she had impressed John. He went around to open her door. A few minutes later they had turned onto the very busy main street. A Porsche attracts attention. The younger crowd in town for the big volleyball tournament turned to admire it.
Half way up the strip, John made a quick right turn, into an alleyway next to the Lobster Haven restaurant. Sue Anne noticed a long line of hungry customers, standing on the sidewalk, waiting to get into the restaurant. At the back of the Lobster Haven, John wheeled into a parking spot guarded by a large sign that read, “Private. No Parking. Tow Away Zone”. She turned to verify that he had seen the sign. He looked at her and gave her a smirk of a smile as if to reassure her that it was OK. He then got out of the car and opened her door for her. They walked past a giant disposal bin and entered a rear door into a brightly lit, hot, busy kitchen. Chefs and helpers were preparing dozens of plates. No one challenged John’s sudden appearance in the kitchen. The busiest man in the Kitchen greeted John with, “Raymond, have you and your friend come for one of my world-famous lobster omelets?”
“We sure have. It looks like you’ve got a record sales day going.”
“It sure does. We need some help back here. How about it?”
“I learned a long time ago to stick to what I do best. You want these customers to come back, don’t you?”
“We sure do. Yeah, you better stick to what you’re good at.”
John led Sue Anne down a hallway, towards the swinging doors leading into the dining room. Half way down the hallway was an alcove with a horseshoe shaped table. It had a padded bench that could have sat six people. He motioned for her to have a seat. He sat beside her.
Waiters and waitresses were quickly moving up and down the hallway with steaming plates of food. In seconds, a silent waitress had put place mats, napkins and cutlery in front of them. She gave John a big knowing smile. A few minutes later, two large omelets arrived with toast, home fries and a steaming jug of coffee. Sue Anne looked overwhelmed by the quick service and how John had just made himself at home.
Noticing her puzzled look. He smiled and said, “I should have asked if you like lobster.”
“Oh, I do love lobster and this lobster omelet is delicious.” She paused before she asked, “Do you work here?”
“Kind of.”
“What does 'kind of' mean?”
John paused and wondered just how much he wished to reveal to what was still a stranger. Finally, he responded, “Well, I own it.”
“You own it?”
“Yes, I own it.”
“So, you don’t work here.”
“No, I have an office a few blocks away but I drop in here a couple of times a week, just to keep an eye on my investment. I also like to eat here. I’m the one who switched it over from a typical greasy spoon to the best lobster restaurant in the state. This is my special table. I added it when we renovated the restaurant.”
“Should I feel honored to be at your table?”
“Absolutely.”
“So, you live in Benji Beach?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve got a little beach house just north of town.”
“Lucky dog.”
"Yeah, it's great."
"You must do something else?"
“Oh, a bit of this and that. I have other investments. I even sell my art. What about you?”
“I'm a legal manager in a commercial collection agency.”
“That sounds intimidating. Should I run away?”
“Only if you're a deadbeat.”
John Cross laughed and asked, feigning ignorance of collection operations, “What does a legal manager in a collection agency do?”
“Well, when our collectors can't persuade a debtor to pay the debt, they then resort to the only option that now have left, to collect the debt through the courts. This requires getting written permission from our client to sue their debtor. If the client agrees to this strategy, then they must give us, up front, enough money to cover the initial legal costs. The transfer the file to me. I determine if the debtor will have sufficient assets to cover the debt if we do get a judgment against them.”
John interjected, “Litigation is not cheap.”
“No, it isn’t. There is no point in spending money suing a debtor if there will be no assets to seize when you win the case. If I do find enough assets, I put together the paper work the law firm needs to prepare the writ. From then on, I act as the liaison between the law firm and the client until the legal action is settled.”
“How long would that take?”
“Oh, it could take years but while it is going through the courts, I try to reach an out-of-court settlement with the debtor. Only about five percent of the legal actions we start ever go to trial.”
“This must mean that you are a very patient person.”
"I think more persistent than patient. You are at the mercy of the courts and your customers but you learn to live with the process. If you didn't it would drive you crazy. It requires creative thinking because although you start the legal action, you really don't want to go to court because you can never be sure the judge will rule in your favor. You always look for ways to reach a settlement without going to trial."
“You know your stuff. I once owned a collection agency.”
“Really, where?”
“Oh, that was a long time ago. I used to live out West.” To change the subject, John asked, “You said your father was an artist. Was he a painter?”
“Yeah, he painted. He liked doing seascapes. The reason I liked your oil pastel so much is that it reminded me of his work. Where did you get your creativity from?”
John Cross paused for a long time before answering. Boy hood memories of his poor, unfortunate mother came flooding back. None of those memories included art. “I'm not really sure. I could always draw and paint. It is something I do without thinking about it. It must be some kind of eye, hand, coordination, thing. I just do it. I'll see something that gives me a compulsion to paint it. It happens a lot here. There are some interesting sights in Delaware. Have you seen any of the light houses further up the coast?”
“No, I've never been to the Delaware coast before.”
“What are your plans for today?”
“I don't really have any plans.”
“Why don't you let me show you some of Delaware’s sights.”
“You can just take the day off? I thought this was one of Benji Beaches busiest weekends.”
"Yeah, it is, but even the boss needs some time off and beside that I’ve got excellent managers who don’t need me looking over their shoulders. They’ve got their objectives and their budgets. If they miss them, they will see more of me than they might wish. Are you ready to go sightseeing?"
“Oh, I would like that, but only if I can buy you lunch.”
“Two free meals in one day. Sounds good to me. I know a great crab shack up the coast. Let’s go.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the check?”
“You’ll be waiting for a very long time if you think they are going to give me a check.”
“But the agreement was that I would buy you breakfast.”
“You shall but not today.”
“Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.
They left through the kitchen. The chef who had greeted them, smiled at her and asked if she had enjoyed the omelet. She told him, it was the best omelet she had ever had. The chef beamed from ear-to-ear. John Cross said, “Don’t flatter him like that, he’ll want a raise.”
As they exited the alley, Sue Anne noticed that the line in front of the restaurant looked even longer than when they had come in. The main drag was bustling with people as they headed towards the coast highway. John enjoyed driving his high-performance sports car. At every opportunity, he would crank it up and pass every car in front of him.
After driving for half an hour, Sue Anne asked, “Where are we heading?”
“I want to show you the quaint town of New Castle. It is just South of Wilmington. After I show you Wilmington, we will drive to Bellfonte. It’s got an interesting light house. On the way, back, we can stop at Sambo’s for fresh crabs. It is just north of Dover.”
“How far is Wilmington?”
“Over one hundred miles. It won’t take us long.”
They took almost two hours to reach New Castle. The cobbled streets and the centuries old colonial houses, left Sue Anne with the feeling that she had just stepped out of a time machine. John pointed out the many scenes that he had painted. Sue Anne took pictures with her cell phone.
It was a short drive through Wilmington to the Bellefonte light house. Sue Anne found the light house disappointing. It was not the round, stereotypical, white tube she had imagined it would be. It was a long thin concrete box in a residential area. John told her the lighthouse no longer operated.
He asked her if she were hungry. She said she was. They headed back through Wilmington and soon were pulling into Sambo’s Tavern.
The restaurant was in the small town of Leipsic. John explained that it was a famous, long established tavern that specialized in selling crabs. He said it was a great example of a Delaware-Maryland crab house. Nothing fancy, but if you want the freshest and best prepared local blue crabs in Delaware, this was the place. Fishermen came up the river each morning and delivered their fresh crabs right to the restaurant.
John ordered a dozen crabs, a half pitcher of beer, a basket of fries, cups of crab bisque and a basket of fried clams. Sue Anne felt stuffed when they finished.
Sue Anne took out her credit card and signaled to the owner’s wife to bring her the check. The wife shook her head and indicated that John had paid it. The bill had come to almost one hundred dollars with the tip. John was not about to stick Sue Anne with it. She complained to him that he had said, she could pay for it. He just laughed and smiled. They got back in the Porsche and headed south.
As they approached Benji Beach, John turned to Sue Anne and said, “I can't remember when I've had such a great day.”
“Me too.”
“Your reward for such a great day is letting me cook your dinner. Do you like steak?”
“I sure do.”
“OK, I'll drop you off at the motel, so you can freshen up and I’ll pick you up around 7:00 PM.”
"That sounds great. Are you sure?"
“Are you kidding? The company of a beautiful, intelligent woman. A chance to show off my culinary skills, a great steak. What more could a man want?
Once again, they drove down Benji Beach’s main drag. That day's volley ball competition was over. Tomorrow was the playoffs. Tired players and thirsty tourists, who had braved the sweltering sun on the beach, were now crowded the late afternoon sidewalks. Dehydrated drinkers crowded the outdoor patios The crowd was intent on having a good time. Tomorrow they would head home to reality.
Bumper to bumper traffic crawled towards the beach. Liam was on the sidewalk, walking away from the beach. He had always lusted after an expensive sports car, just like the green Porsche that was now approaching him. He, like several heads on the sidewalk, turned to stare at it. Liam took out his cell phone to make a video of it as it went by. He was astounded to see Sue Anne as a passenger in the car. He paid no attention to the driver who he had also captured in the video. Sue Anne was concentrating on the cars in front of them, she did not notice Liam taking their picture.
Turning off the main drag, it was only a few hundred yards to the Seahorse Motel. John pulled to a stop in front of her door. Sue Anne got out and waved goodbye as he drove away. She had more than an hour to shower and get herself ready. It was only then that she considered that the whole purpose of this weekend was supposed to have been volleyball and partying. She had not seen one game or even felt that she had missed anything, especially Steve. Raymond Powell’s charm and sensitivity had been welcome and appreciated.
These days, John spent little time at the beach house. Usually, he slept in an apartment, he kept on the second floor, above one of his bars on the main drag. Occasionally, he slept in the apartment at the golf course.
John drove to Beckman’s meat market. They had the best steaks in town, hand cut and well marbled. He then stopped at Freshco for vegetables and wine. At the beach house, he opened windows, so the sea breezes could air it out.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he turned on the barbecue, to let it get hot, while he left to pick up Sue Anne. Before he left, to set the mood, he had turned on soft, mellow music. At a small, white, metal table on the deck, he had set down place mats, linen napkins, cutlery and wine glasses.
The sun was getting low on the horizon when he pulled up in front of her room at the Seahorse Motel. He got out of the car and knocked on Sue Anne’s door. She yelled from inside, “I’ll be ready in a minute.”
“No problem, take your time.”
He went back to the car, turned on the Bloomberg channel, on his Sirius radio, and waited. In ten minutes, Sue Anne made her entrance. She looked stunning. As John got out and opened her car door, he murmured, “You look great.”
“Well, thank you, kind sir. You look good too.”
On the drive to the beach house they said little. When John pulled into the driveway, Sue Anne gasped and said, “You live here?”
“Yes, well, to be honest, I probably spend more time in an apartment that I have on the strip, but yeah, I live here too.”
“This is a small place on the beach?”
“Well, things are neither great nor small except by comparison. There are bigger places.”
“I haven’t seen any.”
He gave her a quick tour of the first floor, made her a drink and told her to relax in one of the lounge chairs on the deck, while he prepared dinner. As she finished her drink, John went to a refrigerator, beside the giant barbeque, and took out a chilled bottle of Moet & Chandon Champagne Brut Imperial. He popped the cork, poured two glasses and proposed a toast, “To an enduring friendship.”
They clinked glasses together. The dry, ice cold, nectar went down smoothly.
“You sit here and relax while I put dinner together.”
John went back into the kitchen and sliced the zucchini length wise so that he could grill them with the steak. Quickly he made his very special salad and put some frozen French fries in the air fryer to crisp. Everything for the barbeque was carried out to the deck. Soon the steaks were sizzling.
After he poured Sue Anne another glass of Champagne, he turned on the small pin lights that circled the deck at floor level and lit a candle, inside a glass globe. Soon everything was ready. The salad was half an avocado, stuffed with baby shrimp, walnuts and celery, on a bed of baby spinach leaves. The steak, French fries and grilled zucchini followed with an Italian Banfi Brunello red wine.
Sue Anne whispered, between mouthfuls of the steak, “I’m very impressed. This is really delicious.”
“Thank you. How was your salad?”
“Great, merci beaucoup, Monsieur. La service et la cuisine est tres elegant.”
“C'est mon plasir. Where did you learn to speak French?”
“My parents had a friend with a villa in Ville France- Sur- la -Mer, just outside of Nice. We used to spend time there, in the summers when I was a kid. What about you?”
You won't believe this, but in another life, I was a missionary in Paris.”
“Really, a missionary? You mean like a monk, a priest? You have got to be kidding?”
“No, I kid you not. I was an orphan, and I was taken in, by I guess, you would call it a sect. After feeding me and educating me for ten years, I agreed to serve them two years as a missionary. They sent me to Paris.”
“What was the sect called?”
“The Sanctuary.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“That is why they need missionaries.”
“Were they the sect who don't smoke, don't drink, don't even drink coffee? You seem to enjoy your wine.”
John Cross laughed, “No, that was another South West sect, the Mormons. I acquired my taste for wine in France.”
It was the quiet of the evening. A gentle breeze wafted in from the ocean, lessening the humidity. Soft music was playing. John crossed over to Sue Anne and held out his hand. She looked puzzled but took it. He quietly said, “Would you give me the pleasure of this dance?”
She smiled up at him but said nothing and rose. He gently took her into his arms held her close. They danced. The soft music paused for a few moments. He looked down at her. She looked up at him. He leaned forward and kissed her. She responded. The music started again. Still holding each other tightly, they kissed again and swayed to the slow rhythm. The music paused again. John picked her up in his arms, as if she were child, and carried her through the patio door, into the house.
Taking the elevator to the second floor, he lay her down on the bed and then lay down beside her. They kissed. He unbuttoned her blouse and undid her brassiere. His shirt quickly came off. They hungrily kissed again. He explored her body with his tongue.
Headlights from a car, coming up the driveway, shone into the room through the open window. They heard the car approaching. John went to the window.
Angrily, he said, “Ah shit. Sue Anne, I’m sorry, please get dressed. We have to leave.”
Sue Anne was already putting on her brassiere and blouse. John dressed and took Sue Anne's hand. He heard the car come to a stop in the garage below the house.
After leading her down the steps to the first floor, they headed towards the rear of the house. The elevator moved up from the garage. Quickly Sue Anne and John crossed the deck and took the long wooden bridge to the beach. They disappeared into the dark.
On the beach, their eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. Their feet sank into the soft sand. Sue Anne took off her sandals and held them. They walked down the beach towards the bright lights of Benji Beach. He held her hand. It helped her walk on the sand.
Sue Anne had not said a word since he told her to get dressed. She asked, “Raymond, what’s going on?”
“It's my in-laws.”
“Your in-laws? You’re married?”
Sue Anne let go of his hand. John quickly responded, “Sorry, my ex-in-laws.”
“You're divorced?”
“No, my wife died.”
“Whose beach house was that?”
“It's complicated. My wife and her father owned it. So, half of it is mine.”
“Well, why did we have to leave?”
“My wife didn't just die. She took out her cruiser and never returned. They found the boat abandoned at sea. She must have had an accident and fallen overboard. The courts declared that it was an accidental death. For some strange reason, that I do not understand, her parents feel that, somehow, I am responsible for her death. I can understand their pain and wanting to blame somebody. It was their only child. I didn’t want you to suffer through the usual embarrassing confrontations I have with them. They're supposed to send me an email before they drive down from Baltimore, so I can I can stay out of their way, but sometimes they don't. I think they do it just to piss me off.”
They walked along in silence. The lights of the strip got closer and closer, brighter and brighter. John took Sue Anne’s hand. She did not take it away. They reached the boardwalk. Sue Anne put her sandals back on. They walked along it to the main drag. Crowds of players and fans celebrating their last night in Benji Beach filled the sidewalks.
Liam stepped out of bar. He almost bumped into the two of them.
Happy to find her, Liam called out, “Hey, Sue Anne?”
“Hi Liam”
“You Okay?”
“Yeah, I'm fine.”
She turned to John Cross who was standing beside her and said, “Ray meet Liam. We went the same high school. Liam, this is Raymond Powell.”
“It’s a small world. Hi Liam, glad to meet you.”
“Hi, nice meeting you too, Ray.” Liam paused. He gave John a long hard look and asked, “Haven’t we met before? You look familiar. Didn't I play against you in last year's tournament?
“No, I'm a golfer and a dirt biker. I’ve not played volley ball since high school.”
“Wait a minute, now I remember. Wasn’t your picture in the all newspapers and TV? Didn't they find your wife's boat was drifting off the coast? I think the press tried to turn it into a killer-husband-gains-millions story.”
“You've got a good memory.”
“No, it’s a professional thing, collecting and storing data is what I do for a living. I’m a researcher for a law firm in Washington.” Liam paused as if building up his nerve, before he asked, “I'm curious, did they ever find her body?
John was becoming uncomfortable with the question. Liam's rudeness embarrassed Sue Anne. To bring the conversation to an end, John quickly replied with a very abrupt, “No.”
“Sorry, I guess you don’t need me dredging up something so traumatic. I apologize for my insensitivity.”
C'est la vie. It happened. I wish it hadn't happened but life goes on, mais non?
“Parlez vous Francais?”
“Oui, monsieur et vous?”
“Yeah. I taught French for a year after college when I lived in California.”
“My home state. My French really improved after I spent two years working in Paris.”
“Great city. No wonder your accent is so good. OK. You guys have a good evening and once again, I’m sorry for my insensitivity.” Liam paused as if he had something more to say. John and Sue Anne stared at him expectantly. Finally, he got it out, “Sue Ann, how are you getting home tomorrow night?”
“Don't worry about me, Liam. I'm sure I can hitch a ride back.”
“OK, that’s great. I’ll see you around.”
Sue Anne and John Cross continue down the strip, hand-in-hand. Liam stared after them. Soon they were swallowed up by the crowd in the street.