Saigon Sam’s

 

T-Rex offered to let Griff crash on the couch of his apartment above the Trident Lounge, but he opted instead for the recliner in the pilot lounge at Chesapeake Regional where he could keep an eye on the Cirrus.

Griff settled in and sent Maura a text: “You checking the mail anytime soon? Like tomorrow maybe? ~G”

He just felt himself start to doze off when his phone dinged with an answer: “You expecting another package?”

“I could use one from Saigon Sam’s to fill my TAP.” Griff figured Maura would recognize the military surplus store outside Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune and understand.

“What do you need?”

Griff got up and, at the flight planning desk, he started writing out a list: Body Armor-Large; M-4 Carbine with 3 extra mags & 500 rounds; Federal 9mm hollow points - 500…

When finished, he took a picture of the list with his phone and sent it to Maura.

“Catch a game?” was Maura’s reply.

“Rain check. A picnic with the Clooney’s? KFGX?”

“On it.”

“Thanks.” Then Griff let himself sleep.

 

***~~~***

 

On the flight from Norfolk to Maysville the next day, Griff caught in himself a rising tide of warm anticipation at the prospect of seeing Maura again. So, he was surprised and chagrined to see Johnny standing next to her on the tarmac outside the terminal building when he taxied up. The pair were definitely a modern American Gothic: her in studded black leather accented with chains; he in a nappy suit and a wide, loud tie leftover from the Seventies which should have been reeking of mothballs by now.

“Papa really wanted to see you again,” Maura said with a shrug of helplessness as Griff walked over. She held up a carryout bag from the Blue Wing Diner. “But I brought enough for three.”

They went over and sat at a picnic table outside the terminal building. Maura began emptying the bag, laying out sandwiches, chips, slaw, and Pepsi-Colas.

“Good to see you, Johnny.”

“Is it?” Johnny smiled mischievously. “I got a notion there might be trouble afoot.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Ain’t worried about you. You ain’t family.”

“Just here to collect a few supplies and be on my way.” Griff nodded towards Maura sitting beside Johnny on the opposite side of the picnic table. “She’s not involved.”

“I seen what’s in the back of my granddaughter’s Jeep. I’d say she’s involved.”

“Papa—”

“What’s going on, son?”

Griff could feel Johnny’s stare bore into his skull. He reached into his pocket for his money clip, peeled off a twenty-dollar bill and slid it across the table to Johnny.

“What’s this?”

“A retainer.”

“You need a lawyer?”

“Everybody needs a lawyer. Most folks just don’t know it—until it’s too late.”

“I reckon you hit upon a truism there…I’ll give you that, but—”

“What I mostly need is to be on my way with…you know, no loose ends to snag me.”

Johnny snatched up the twenty. “Tell me. Straight.”

“She works for you, right?” Griff nodded towards Maura. “No third-party exceptions?”

“Maura, darling, there is something I’m going to need you to do—professional like.”

“What’s that, Papa?”

“Not rightly sure yet.” Johnny slid the twenty across to Maura without taking his eyes off Griff. “But I have me this client…”

She picked up the twenty, stared lovingly into Andrew Jackson’s eyes, then folded it neatly and slid the bill into the front pocket of her tight black jeans.” This will do…” Maura smiled at Griff. “For now.”

“Consider yourself hired, then.” Johnny’s lips parted in a huge, toothy grin aimed at Griff. “And, of course, I’ll brook no hanky-panky with the clientele.”

Griff shook his head, feeling outfoxed again. “Of course. That would be unprofessional.”

“Yes. Quite.” Johnny unwrapped his sandwich. He scowled at Maura when, looking inside, he found turkey.

She swapped her roast beef sandwich for his turkey.

“Now, then, Mr. Crowe, thank you so much for choosing The Leonard Group for your legal needs. How may we help you?”

Griff watched Johnny take a carnivorous bite. He checked inside his own sandwich and found roast beef. He offered it to Maura, but she shook him off.

Johnny chewed and chewed and chewed, then swallowed. “Go on now, son. Don’t be bashful. We’re here to help.”

“Well…I’m getting a little taste of what came Donald Wallace’s way.” Griff explained the sniper incidents at his ranch and Helena’s place in Taos as they ate, sticking to just the facts of the shootings.

“Hmmm…” Johnny wiped horseradish sauce from the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “I feel compelled to ask, whether you, your own self, might be acting in a completely professional and ethical manner with your client? Don’t worry, now, what you say is completely and absolutely protected by this thing we call attorney-client privilege.”

Griff hung his head in defeat but caught Maura’s wry smile.

“Yes, Mr. Crowe, you can trust us to keep your affairs completely confidential,” Maura said. “We’re professionals.”

“Oh, let’s not embarrass the poor fellow now, darling. It sounds like he’s got a world of worry already,” Johnny said. “One last thing, though. I’d be remiss if I failed to inquire as to your intentions for these…supplies, what that we were discussing earlier. Should you have any notions to use them to commit an act or acts of an illicit nature, well then, I’d be obliged by my oath as an officer of the court to make the authorities aware of such ill intent.”

“Strictly self-defense,” Griff said.

Johnny crumpled up his sandwich wrapper. “Very well, then, I shall have Patty Ann set up an account for you.”

“I’m paying for this lunch, aren’t I.”

“We do pride ourselves on being a full-service legal firm, Mr. Crowe. Or might I address you as Griff?”

“Of course.”

Maura and Griff went to load his supplies in the plane. At the back of her Jeep, she nudged him with her hip.

“Glad to have you as a client,” Maura said in a breathy voice.

Griff could only sigh.

When the Cirrus was packed up, Griff departed westbound, while Maura and Johnny stood on the tarmac and waved good-bye.

 

***~~~***