Death By Drowning Read Free Page B

a shiny penny in the pool. This was Jake’s idea of fun. He’d throw in a penny. I was to fall off my float, dive and get the penny. Nine out of ten times I couldn’t get the coin, but Jake said that was okay. The therapy was in the struggle to get the penny. What can I say. His methods seemed to be working and I wasn’t bored.
    When I had regained enough strength, Jake rented a fishing boat and plunged me into the sea attached to a floating harness contraption he had fashioned. If I drifted too far from the boat, Jake would tug on the rope attached to the harness and drag me closer. If I did well, Jake would venture into deeper water the next day.
    “Keep treading. Keep moving those legs!” he yelled encouragingly, while munching on thick roast beef sandwiches and slurping cold beer. Once he pulled me out of the sea with one hand when a shark got a little too close, then proceeded to drop me back in when it lost interest and departed. I called Jake some pretty horrible names. He just motioned for me to continue treading while adjusting his Cardinals baseball cap against the blazing sun.
    Franklin would either join me snorkeling in the salty water or stay onboard fishing with Jake. Time came when Jake told me to pull myself on board. It took twenty-five minutes and lots of profanity-laced grunts before I managed to haul myself up and flop onto the deck of the boat like a hooked fish. It took me another fifteen minutes struggling to stand while Jake and Franklin sat watching me, trading baseball statistics. That was the day I took my first step since the accident. That was the day I knew I was going to make it back into the land of the living.
    News of my recovery made its way back to Lexington. Detective Goetz and the city’s attorney, along with Shaneika Mary Todd, my criminal lawyer, came to Key West to take my deposition regarding my lawsuit against the city. Goetz was all business as Shaneika watched over him like a sparrow hawk hovering over prey. By that time, my memory had recovered for the most part and I gave a sound statement with only a few lapses. The city’s attorney kept asking the same questions over and over again until I complained of numbing weariness.
    “You’ve got some pretty smooth explanations,” said the city’s attorney, his voice sounding like a repeating rifle.
    “What do ’ou want me to do? Learn how to stutter,” I seethed.
    After that, their visit ended shortly, professional and somewhat disappointingly surreal. Goetz acted as though he didn’t know me. I was relieved when they left.
    Eventually Franklin had to go back to Lexington, but not before many tears were shed by us both, not that Franklin would ever admit it to anyone. But we would see each other soon. After all, there was only one month left to go on the lease at the Key West house.
    *
    It was one of those rare cloudy days in Key West when Jake and I got back to the house. The sky was an unbroken canopy of wooly gray clouds. A smoky black line edging the horizon threatened a severe thunderstorm.
    I had discovered a shop specializing in Haitian paintings and had purchased three for a song. It was all I could do to climb out of the cab with my new cane, one that Franklin had procured from an antique store while Jake carried my precious paintings, when I spied my Farmers’ Market friend, Irene Meckler, sitting on the porch steps holding an overnight bag.
    “For goodness sake, Irene,” I called. “What are ’ou doing here?”
    Irene rushed over, enveloping me in a warm hug. “I was just about to give up on you,” she said smiling. “I’ve been waiting here for hours.”
    “Well, come on in. Are ’ou staying in a hotel?” I asked, spying her bag.
    “You are going to think this forward of me, but I want to stay with you, Josiah.”
    “All right. This is Jake. He is . . . uhmm, my handyman.”
    Irene gave Jake the once over. “How handy is he, Josiah?” she asked rakishly.
    Jake blushed and picked up Irene’s