Short Story: Grandpa—A Retired PI

         The bus squealed to a halt, and a thin boy wearing a backpack appeared on the bus step. Larry sighed. Sunny looked the same at that age with those huge, ocean blue eyes and light-colored hair. The boy hesitated as though questioning the days ahead.

         Larry made his way to Greer.

         “Hey, Gramps.” No eye contact.

         Greer’s manners mirrored his mother’s. “You’re all grown up for thirteen. Too old for a hug?”

         Greer frowned. “I’m ready to go.”

         “Where’s your suitcase?”

         “Everything is in my backpack. Dad told me to buy whatever I needed here.”

         “Should we stop at the store before going home?”

         “Nay. I grabbed my toothbrush and boxers. Only had five minutes to pack.”

         Odd, since Greer’s visit had been planned for the summer while his parents reconciled their marriage. Supposedly Greer’s frail emotions couldn’t handle the fussing. Larry knew his daughter—the fussing most likely resembled a verbal firing squad.

         Greer reached inside his backpack and handed Larry an envelope. “Dad wrote you something, and there’s a check there, too.”

         Larry tucked it into his jeans pocket. “My car’s parked close by.”

         “Dad said you drove a Camaro.”

         “I now have a Jaguar. The other was too slow.” Larry chuckled.

         Greer didn’t crack a smile.

         They walked to the parking lot where his silver ride awaited. Once buckled up, Larry flipped on the radio.

         “What kind of music?” Larry said.

         “Eighties.”

         Interesting. Just before setting the radio, Larry realized he needed the truth. “How do you feel about spending the summer with me?”

         Greer shrugged. “Dad said it would be a good idea until Mom got used to her meds.”

         New information. “She’s ill?”

         “She’s mental.” Greer snorted. “She told you this was about her and Dad, right?” When Larry nodded, Greer continued. “That’s ‘cause she was seeing this other guy.”

         “Sorry.” His daughter needed help with her choices. “We’ll plan a good summer. Not too busy. Not too boring. I have a list of ideas that you can look over, including the shooting range. Feel free to add to it. I have a three-bedroom home and a pool. No animals. I’m allergic. I’ve been called eccentric and an old hippy.” He glanced at Greer. Not even a grin, which meant his mother had already described Larry.

         “Pool’s nice.”

         “I’m retired, so we can make our own schedule.” His phone rang, and he tapped his bluetooth earpiece. Greer might not need to hear his dad’s side of the conversation.

         “Larry, this is Dale.”

         “We’re on our way home. Hold on a minute.” Larry glanced into the rearview mirror. Was that car following him? At a stoplight, he took a closer look at the driver. “Okay, go ahead,” he said to Dale.

         “Something I need to tell you. Sunny and Greer have been threatened. Don’t let Greer out of your sight, and don’t use his last name.”

         “What’s going on?”

         “Your daughter got herself mixed up with the wrong guy.” Dale paused. “Look, if something happens to Sunny, I’ll be there for Greer. In the meantime, he’s yours for the summer. Get a prepaid phone.”

         “Name of the guy?”

         “Why?”

         “I have a right to know if we have a face to face.”

         “All right. Noah Talbert.”

         “What do I tell Greer?”

         “Lie.” Dale clicked off.

         Whoa. Larry sensed his ulcer kicking into gear.

         “Is he still mad at Mom? I know what this is about. I’m not stupid.”

         “What do you mean?”

         “Mom dumped her boyfriend ‘cause Dad found out, and now the jerk’s mad.”

         Larry swung into a grocery store parking lot. “How did you find out?”

         “My ears. Is it true you used to be a private investigator?”

         “Yes.”

         “And you can shoot?”
“Crack shot.”

         “You’re into religion. The Jesus thing is a myth.”

         “Really? Who told you that?”

         “Take a look at the world, Gramps. It sucks.”

         “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Be ready by 9:30 in the morning.”

         Greer stiffened. “No thanks.”

         “No choice. Should we buy a phone while we’re out?”

         “Nope.”

         “Thinking you’ll want to call your parents this summer.”

         “No rush.”

         Larry would address Greer’s response later. Right now, Larry needed time to think and pray. This throw-back from the 60s had some protectin’ to do.

         Greer said nothing the rest of the way home. Once there, Larry led him to the spare bedroom. He said he wasn’t hungry, thirsty, or tired. Greer closed the door to his new room, leaving Larry in the hallway.

         Larry settled into his ergonomically correct chair and accessed a secure computer site. He pulled up intel on Noah Talbert. One, bad, hombre. Suspected of murder, extortion, drugs. Authorities hadn’t found the evidence to put him away, and he matched the driver of the car that followed them earlier.

         The doorbell rang. He closed the lid just in case Greer got nosey. In the living room, he peered through a window. Dark brown hair tied at the nape. Sunglasses covered his eyes. Muscular build and about six feet. Yep, Noah Talbert had followed Greer to Houston. A little hot for a jacket, which told Larry, Talbert was packing. Larry marched back to his office and pulled his S&W from a desk drawer. The doorbell rang twice more followed by a pounding.

         Greer bolted from his room. “Who—” His eyes widened at the sight of Larry and the gun.

         “Grab my phone on the desk and dial 9-1-1. Stay in your room until I give the okay.”

         Greer hurried into Larry’s office.

         Talbert sat on the doorbell.

         Larry tucked his S&W into the back waist of his jeans and opened the door. “Can I help you?”

         “Sir, I’m doing a survey for Houston regarding senior housing. I’d like to come in and ask a few questions.”

         “You can ask right here.”

         “It’s a little hot, sir.”

         And it’s going to get hotter. “Who’s the mayor?”

         “What?”

         “You said the survey was for the city, so who’s the mayor? Or are you lying?”

         Talbert frowned. “Look, give me the kid, and I’ll leave you alone. Counting to three.”

         “Why?” Stalling made sense.

         “His mama has something belonging to me.”

         “What?”

         “Money.”

         Sunny had two weaknesses—money and men. “How much?”

         “More than you have. I need the kid for insurance.”

         “Not happening.”

         Talbert swore and drew his gun. Larry grabbed his weapon while adrenaline poured into his blood. Guns kill. No criminal would lay his hands on Greer.

         “You just made a huge mistake.” Larry fired into the man’s wrist but not before Talbert squeezed a bullet narrowly missing Larry’s knee.

         “Be glad you missed ‘cause I’d have been real mad. Just had that knee replaced.”

         Talbert dropped his weapon and seized a bleeding wrist.

         “You might have gotten away with a lot of crimes, but not this one.”   Larry held him at gunpoint until the police arrived. Once Talbert was in custody, Larry located Greer.

         The boy held his stomach as though he might be sick. “Gramps, you took down that guy.”

         “With a lot of help from Jesus—you know, the myth thing.”

         Greer swallowed. “Can’t believe what you just did. I’d like to stay here. Go to church and the shooting range.” He hugged Larry.

         Greer was about to find out about Jesus and how much fun life could really be. And maybe Sunny and Dale could patch up their marriage.

         This throw-back from the 60s had some prayin’ to do.