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The sky was getting lighter as Gil drove north up I-75 toward Ocala, Florida in light rain. There wasn’t any traffic this time of the day. He left the interstate at Ocala, crossed over to US Route 301, then headed north up the middle of the Florida peninsula. Route 301 was a pleasure to drive, scenic with citrus groves and cow pastures.
The sun came up, even though it was still raining a bit. He put on his sunglasses and turned on the radio. “Folks, that was Bizzle, with his Response to Same Love. I played that to show faith and support for our leader, Ronnie D, and his quest to rid our land, and our whole nation, of those who have turned to sins of the flesh. Now we’ll hear from Zach Williams with Heart of God.” Gil pressed the ‘seek’ button to find a better station. He was conflicted about wintering in Florida, with it’s ultra-conservative and hate-stoking politics and religion. Gil wasn’t a Democrat and he wasn’t a Republican. Both parties had some good ideas and too many bad ideas. The ultra-liberals and ultra-conservatives were preventing the parties from working effectively together. It was exasperating.
He settled on an oldies rock station that was playing Purple Rain. The rain ended, and a nice rainbow formed. Gil thought that a lot of people in Florida must now hate rainbows, the nemesis of conservative politics. As he was getting close to the ramp for I-10, several magnificent swallow-tailed kites were swooping above the road.
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DETECTIVE JIM BERNISKI and FBI Special Agent Mayet Elsayed sat on the couch in Martha’s living room, adjacent to a love-seat that held Martha and Lili. Everyone was drinking coffee in mismatched mugs. Special Agent Elsayed was a striking young woman with black, frizzy hair tied back. “So, Agent D’Amico, what do you think is going on here?” she asked.
“I think someone wants to kill Martha.” Martha began to tremble, so Lili gently put her hand on Martha’s arm. I think if they were looking for something, the house would have been tossed. I have no idea why they’re after Martha. I recommend digging into Martha’s past and present dealings. She could have witnessed something that she isn’t aware of. The killers came here first and, when they realized she wasn’t around, they searched for indications of where she was. They located her in Florida, and a guy tried to strangle her. He kept at it even when he knew he’d be killed. Do you know who the attacker was?”
Detective Berniski said, “I spoke to Detective Arias yesterday, and they still don’t have an ID on the guy down there. They believe he’s from El Salvador, based on his tattoos.”
Lili said, “Well, since Martha probably isn’t involved with Central American gangs, somebody probably hired him to get to her.”
Special Agent Elsayed asked, “Ms. Eames, who are your closest relatives?”
Martha wrote on her pad for a few minutes while Lili looked over her shoulder. “I don’t have any blood relatives that I know of. I was adopted as a young child in England by Stephen and Elizabeth Stone. They had no knowledge of my biological parents. I have some cousins from the Stone family in England and Canada whom I met as a child, but I never stayed in touch with them when my parents moved to America. George and I didn’t have any children. Early in our marriage, I had a baby who was stillborn. After that, I couldn’t bring myself to try for another one. I had my students at school, and that was enough for me.”
Elsayed read what she wrote and handed it off to Berniski. “Has anything changed in your life in the recent past? Any new activities, investments, acquaintances, that sort of thing?” asked Elsayed.
Martha wrote another paragraph. “I’ve been doing the same things for the past 15 years, living in Portsmouth and going to Florida for the winters. I’m 81 years old, so I don’t do all that much. My husband George died three years ago, which was a big change for me. The only new acquaintances I have lately are Lili and Gil who came to Florida this year. If they didn’t, I’d be dead!”
Elsayed read it, passed it on, and said, “I’m so sorry about your husband.”
Lili said, “You’re eighty-one? I thought you were like seventy-five. Wow, you’re in good shape!” Martha beamed.
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THAT EVENING, GIL EXITED I-77 somewhere in North Carolina. He pulled into a gas station and filled his tank. He searched his cell phone for nearby hotels. Since he wasn’t with Lili, he decided to go for something low-budget. All he needed was a bed to sleep in. He pulled in to the Red Bug Motel which looked like it was freshly painted, about twenty years ago.
In the front office, the desk clerk was a girl, maybe fifteen years old, listening to pop music on a radio. “I’d like a room for one night, please.”
She pulled out a form and asked, “How many people?”
“Just me.”
“Pets?”
“No.”
“Please fill out your name and address, along with your license plate information.” A woman dressed in a red and gold sari was arguing on the phone in the office behind the desk.
Gil filled out the form and asked, “Is there breakfast?”
“Yes, there will be a continental breakfast over there, from seven to nine. That will be fifty-nine dollars please.” He pushed his chip card into the little machine and, after a few seconds, it asked him to remove his card. She handed him a receipt. Here is your key. Room 24.” She showed him room 24 on a map.
Gil moved the car closer to his room, then lugged his bag up the stairs and found room 24. He couldn’t remember the last time he got a metal key for a hotel room. The room was everything he expected. It had an odd, musty odor, perhaps like boiled seaweed that had cooled. He set his suitcase on the wooden luggage rack. The carpet was dark olive green, and lightly stained from an old roof leak. The queen-sized bed looked fine and the bedding looked clean. He lifted the mattress a little and didn’t find any bedbugs or red bugs. The bathroom was very dated, but clean. The cover of the toilet tank was cracked. Actually, the whole place was very clean.
Gil freshened up and went outside to look for a restaurant. He preferred to find a local place rather than a chain restaurant. He searched on his phone and found two places within walking distance. The closest one was a traditional American diner. He checked it out, but there was only one customer there, even though it was dinner time. He crossed the street and walked down the road a little farther and found a restaurant called Boca Chica. It was hopping.
The girl at the counter told him to sit anywhere. Based on the posters on the wall, he gathered that it was a Dominican restaurant. He’d never had Dominican food before, so he was curious. He looked at the menu and it was very long. A server came by and he ordered chinola juice, which was passion fruit. When she brought that over, he ordered pollo horneado, which was rotisserie chicken, along with rice and sweet plantain. It was wonderful! Maybe when he and Lili look for a house together, they could find one near a Dominican restaurant. As he ate, Gil wondered if he and Lili were ready to move in together, permanently. They hadn’t really talked about it since deciding to go to Florida together. What about getting married? They didn’t need to rush into anything. They’d only known each other for about six or seven months.
When he got back to the motel, he called Lili and asked about her day. She filled him in on the case and told him she’d head home once Martha got an alarm system, maybe in a day or two. He told her about the Dominican restaurant and she said she’d never been. After they hung up, Gil grabbed the TV remote and sat in bed. The mattress was bouncy and sagged a bit in the middle. He searched the guide for a show to watch, but didn’t find anything. He found his Kindle and resumed reading his science-fiction novel.
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LILI WAS KNITTING A sweater for her young niece. Martha was reading a magazine. She picked up her pad, wrote a bit, and handed it to Lili. “I just read an article about doing a DNA genealogy search. That detective asked me about my family, and I told her what I knew, but I guess that wasn’t the whole story. I did a DNA test a couple of years ago and it showed that I do have some blood relatives in South America and other places in Europe, maybe. Could I show it to you? You’re a DNA expert, right?”
“I do know a lot about DNA, but I’m not a genealogist. I’d love to take a look at your DNA results.”
There was a knock at the back door which surprised Lili. A police officer was stationed back there, guarding the back steps. Martha quickly wrote that it’s probably Barbara. Lili grabbed her gun and answered the door. “Oh, please don’t shoot me until after you’ve tried my casserole,” said Barbara. I made an extra one for you girls.” Lili let her in and Barbara set her casserole on the counter. “Chicken and broccoli.”
“Thank you, it looks great!” said Lili.
“What are you knitting?”
“It’s a sweater for my niece. She’s seven years-old.”
“It’s beautiful! I love those colors. I’m working on an afghan. Sweaters are too stressful for me. How are you feeling, Martha?”
Martha wrote on her pad and handed it to Barbara. “I feel fine, but my neck itches. I can squeak a little, so maybe my voice is starting to come back.”
“That would be great, but don’t rush it. Swelling takes time to come down.” Barbara looked at Lili. “I was a nurse for almost forty years. Mass General. Well, I’ll see you later. I’ve got a cake in the oven.”