Due Justice

Chapter 14

Tampa, Florida

Friday 5:15 p.m.

January 8, 1999

Upstairs, both Harry and Bess were guarding the door waiting for anyone who happened to come in so that they could immediately lick intruders to death. Both bounded toward me whining to jump on my suit for ear scratching. I waved them down and changed into running clothes. Then gave in, got down on the floor and rolled around with both of them for a while. Together, they out-weigh me by thirty pounds.

Bess is black and Harry is yellow. Like their namesakes, they’re fiercely independent, no-nonsense dogs, thoroughly devoted to one another. We got them originally for protection as guard dogs because so many strangers come into what is, after all, our home. Pricilla Worthington told me once, after Harry slobbered all over her Dior dress, “If you had a gun, and knew how to use it like everyone else in Tampa, you wouldn’t need these noxious creatures.”  But I’m from Detroit. Nothing as sissy as handguns for protection for us.

Of course, anyone who spends five seconds with Harry and Bess realizes what useless guard dogs they are. They do have big barks and that counts for something, at least to strangers. We still pay the alarm company every month, just in case.

After I put on my running shoes, we went down the back stairs, avoiding everyone else who might be in the restaurant, to the beach. I threw sticks and toys into the water for them to chase for a while before we began our run.  After fifteen minutes of having wet sticks returned by two ninety-pound dogs, I was as wet as they were. I threw the last two sticks and took off in the opposite direction, counter clockwise around the island. If I don’t play with them some beforehand, there’s no way I can keep up.

By the time they got the sticks out of the water and came after me it took them, maybe, fifteen seconds to pass me up. It’s a little contest I have with myself. I’ve made it as far as twenty seconds ahead of them, but I have to throw the sticks pretty far out first.

When I’m in good form, I do an entire lap around Plant Key, or maybe two. Other days, I just do half a lap and take a golf cart back. Because I was feeling guilty about leaving the office early and I had plenty of time before sundown; today would be a complete lap day.

A lot of people run just for exercise, hating every minute of it. For me, though, it’s a spiritual experience. I love the sand, the water, the sunshine and the companionship I get from Harry and Bess. After years of running, I’m able to get to the runner’s high in about three minutes and it carries me the remainder of the run. Sometimes, I have to consciously make myself stop. Otherwise, I might be like the tiger chasing Sambo and run around so long and so fast that I melt into butter. During the summer I feel like I’m melting.

Today I considered what I’d learned on my visit to MedPro and at lunch from Carly. Something about her explanation just didn’t fit with the facts. It was nagging me and the more I tried to focus on it, the more elusive it became. I attacked it another way. Why would Dr. Morgan call Carly with his discovery when he could have called Zimmer or Young directly?  He knew them better and they had a history together. Why would he pick a young, gullible and inexperienced employee to disclose such allegedly valuable information?  It just didn’t make sense, unless he planned to use that inexperience for his own ends. Or, and this was more likely, Carly wasn’t telling me everything. I worked out a plan for finding out the rest.

As I came up the back stairs after my run, our private phone rang and George answered it.

“Its Marilee Aymes, for you,” he said as he handed me the cordless. I wondered how she got the number. Like my office number, it’s unlisted and only given out to the family.