My Sister's Fear

by T. J. Jones

  My Sister's Fear

  Chapter 1

  Levi Davis claimed to be the husband of the great, great, granddaughter of the long-deceased Son of the south and President of the Confederacy. Putting aside the curious fact that he and his wife had started life with the same last name, that seemed like an extremely tenuous and convoluted relationship to assert when you were self-aggrandizing about your claim on destiny. But then Levi had accomplished very little in his thirty odd years and he probably felt the need to inflate his own ego. He didn't like when I pointed that out to him, or the crack about keeping it in the family. And for a guy his size, he couldn't throw a decent punch. I would have liked nothing better than to hit him back, but a couple of his good old boys had a hold on both of my arms, and a fourth was doing his best to pulverize my kidneys.

  Levi was a few inches shorter than my six-three, and what some people call lanky. I called it scrawny, and he didn't like that either. He spent most of his days driving one of his father's paving trucks, smoking cigarettes and talking trash about things he knew nothing about. He spent most of his nights at the Outhouse, a remarkably descriptive name for the local bar and pool hall, doing his best to romance any woman who might not care that he was married, or foolish enough to be impressed by the fact that his father employed half the town. That was where our paths had first crossed.

  Maggie and I had pulled into town and left our things at the motel, then walked across the street. The sign on the door of the bar said: The Outhouse: Where Shit Happens. It was on the south edge of town, roughly eight blocks from the north edge, if that tells you anything, and looked like the only place open to get a sandwich. Small towns can be charming and wonderful at times, like Mayberry RFD. Everybody knows everybody, or knows someone who does. Two, maybe three degrees of separation at most. Often as not, depending on the economy, they're happy to see strangers, eager even, and you'd think tourist dollars would be welcome everywhere.

  But some little towns want to stay that way. They're content with the status quo. They want to keep their business local and make sure their sons and daughters marry their high school sweetheart, raise some grandkids and get a job at the local mill. They have their own idea of a perfect life and it doesn't include people from out of town, or people that don't look like them. They don't care for outsiders, especially outsiders that are asking questions and learning their secrets.

  It was a Thursday night and the bar was busy, pool night for the ladies. There were eight or ten younger women circling the two pool tables in the back of the place, wearing cutoffs and sweatshirts, swilling beer and talking amongst themselves. They let out an exuberant scream occasionally when someone made a tough shot and laughed loudly at jokes we couldn't hear. There were a group of guys sitting with them and another dozen scattered around the bar. We took a table right next to the kitchen and the waitress took our order. I went to the bathroom and when I came back found Levi Davis standing beside our table doing his best to cozy up to my girlfriend.

  Maggie Jeffries, much like her older sister, attracts a lot of attention everywhere we go. She's a couple inches shy of six feet with rust colored hair that cascades halfway down her back and brilliant blue eyes that take your breath away. Or maybe that's just me. The girlfriend thing was new and still a little precarious, but even if I tended to be the jealous type I wouldn't have been worried about Levi Davis. He was doing his best to be charming, filled with the unfettered optimism that comes with intoxication and stupidity, weaving slightly as he talked.

  Maggie made the introductions. "This is my boyfriend, Slater. Levi Davis, his Dad owns the local paving company."

  "Not just local, we do most of the roads in all of south Georgia, three counties, all the way down to Tallahassee sometimes." He puffed up his chest a little. "Sometimes we have to get subcontractors when we go out of state, we're that damn busy."

  "Well, of course you are." Maggie said and I nodded, like we had a clue or cared.

  "You folks just passing through? We're kind of off the beaten path and most people miss our little town heading down to the coast. Just fine by me, we don't need any of that riff-raff here."

  "Hope we don't fit that description." I frowned up at him. "We're just going to be in town for a few days, visiting a sick friend."

  "No, course I wasn't talking about you. Good people, white folks are always welcome here. Just a wild thought being we just met, but do you think maybe I could borrow Maggie for a while Saturday night? They have a couples' pool night, if you're still going to be around." I had already formed an intense dislike for Levi and this wasn't helping.

  "Thanks, but I'm not a pool player." Maggie said quickly. "We're going to be busy with that friend. Looks like they're plenty of extra women in here, I'll bet you could pick up a partner easy enough."

  "Yeah, I partnered up with most of these gals already, if you get my meaning." He grinned at me like he wanted to be sure I appreciated the inuendo.

  "Well good luck with that, it was nice to meet you Levi." I turned my back to him and after a minute he reluctantly wandered away.

  Maggie sipped her beer. "He wanted to talk Slater. You could have asked about the girl."

  "The only girl he wanted to talk about was you, and I think we need to find out a little more before we start asking the locals about her. For all we know she was a pool player. If she partnered up with that idiot, he probably has her tied up in his barn. He has some balls, asking you out with me sitting right here."

  "Come on Slater, you two might end up being great friends." She laughed.

  "Whatever we find out, I'm not going to be friends with Levi Davis." That turned out to be an understatement.

  Despite what I'd said about his punches, Levi had managed to inflict some damage, and the guy behind me landed one on the side of my head that made me see stars.

  "You get the message Slater? Take that sweet-assed redheaded girl of yours and get the hell out of our town."

  "Kiss my ass." That was all I had. Something witty would have been nice, but I was fighting to stay conscious. Someone hit me from behind again, and I went down. They had cornered me at the school in one of the ballfield dugouts near our client's house. My gun was locked in the pickup, and I wasn't sure if Maggie knew I was in trouble. I fell across the makeshift dugout bench, just a plank bolted to cinder blocks, and held onto it. I was sure that if I went to the ground, they would use their boots on me. Funny what comes into your mind, when you know you're about to take the beating of your life. All I could think about was the one time in my life when I had played baseball.

  When I was twelve, maybe thirteen, I was the skinniest most uncoordinated string bean to ever step foot on a baseball diamond. Most of the time I was shunned when it came to any sports in the neighborhood, but on one Sunday afternoon half a dozen of the local kids were desperate for players and they let me join them. Their fears were well founded, because I was terrible. After considerable begging they let me try to hit. In my case, they let me swing until I finally connected, and it was a glorious feeling when I made solid contact six or seven swings in. One of the kids had a new aluminum Easton, and when I finally put the bat on a pitch it made the sweetest sound I'd ever heard and sent the ball out to the centerfield, just shy of the fence. I think I'll always remember that moment. It turns out a baseball and a kneecap make a similar sound when you hit the sweet spot.

  As I fought to stay on the bench and cover my head, I heard the distinct ping of an aluminum bat striking a hard object, followed by the horrible shriek of a man in intense pain. One of the men holding me let go and I managed to stand and spin away from Levi Davis in time to see Maggie swing her bat again, catching her next victim on the arm, squarely in the elbow. Levi smashed me in the back of the head again and I
went down, but I managed to grab at my third assailant's foot as he lunged at Maggie Jeffries. He tripped and fell forward with his arms flailing, and she quickly spun the bat around and drove the end of it into his forehead. He hit the ground hard, and I figured he was out of it.

  I struggled to get to my feet as Levi rushed past me, trying to get to Maggie. The guy she had hit in the arm had grabbed her from behind and while she was reaching back trying to gouge his eyes with one hand, she held on with the other, using him for leverage to plant a good solid kick in Levi's face with those long, beautiful legs of hers. Levi was yelling, holding his nose and swearing, trying to grab at her while the poor guy that already had ahold of her was trying to push her away, undoubtedly concerned about his eyesight. She had driven a thumb into one of his eyes and she was going after the other one, all while doing her best to kick Levi in the face again.

  I grabbed the bat from the ground, planning to do some real damage. Suddenly the man holding Maggie was plucked from his feet and tossed aside like a ragdoll, knocking Maggie forward onto the poor guy with the imprint of the Easton on his forehead. A massive hand came forward and pointed a meaty finger at Maggie, who had immediately started scuffling with the guy on the ground. Mostly, it was him doing the scuffling while Maggie punched him.

  "Knock that shit off, right now!" Sherriff Alex Henderson bellowed at her and then pointed in my general direction. I dropped the bat and stepped back. Maggie crawled over the top of her victim and scrambled to her feet next to me. The first guy was still clutching his knee, prostrate on the ground, and moaning loudly. Levi was the only one on his feet, relatively unscathed except for a bit of a nosebleed.

  The Sherriff, all of six-nine and three-fifty of him, looked around and shook his head. "Just what in the hell are you bunch of God-damn idiots doing out here? You scared the shit out of old lady Johnson. She looks out her window and there's a free for all going on, right in the fucking school yard. School just let out half an hour ago, little kids could see you morons acting like this."

  "These two attacked us." Levi said quickly. "I want to press charges."

  The Sherriff looked around. "They attacked you? Just the one guy? He looks beat to shit by the way; him and this pretty little girl attacked all four of you?"

  "That bitch broke Jerry's knee with that bat." Levi yelled.

  "Alright Levi, settle down." The giant pointed at my partner. "Maggie, right? You tell me what happened here."

  "Four of them were beating on Slater. Some kid must have left his bat behind, so I grabbed it and I wasn't about to let them take it away from me."

  "Levi?" Henderson turned and looked at him.

  "They've been poking around, asking questions about Wally Weston. They're taking his side."

  "Weston hasn't been charged with anything, and as far as I know there's no reason he will be. You damn well better leave that business to me. I hope it wasn't you and your boys that gave him that beating, because if I find out it was, I don't care who your Daddy is, you're going to be sorry."

  "Jerry's kneecap might be broke, I want to press charges."

  "Yeah?" The Sherriff seemed to consider it. "Suppose I'll have to investigate the whole mess then. Tough to imagine how this one woman beat the hell out of all four of you, baseball bat or not. I got to say, it'll make for a good story at the coffee shop. Your Daddy ought to be proud as punch to hear about you fighting with a girl." Levi kicked the dirt and the Sherriff laughed. "How about you Mr. Slater, want to press charges?"

  "No, I'm good." I wasn't, but I'd heal. "We'll let it go if they do."

  "Levi? You going to let this go, or should I tell everybody around town about how this woman kicked your stupid ass?" Levi glowered, but nodded. The Sherriff continued, towering over them and motioned with a monstrous arm, dismissing the four like a grade school principal would dismiss a group of unruly third graders. "You boys need to listen real good for once in your stupid lives. You stay clear of these two until they leave town or so help me, I'll come looking for you, and I won't bother bringing a baseball bat. You get me?"

  "This is bullshit." Levi mumbled, but he helped the guy with the sore knee to his feet. They started off across the ballfield and Levi looked back at us. "This isn't over Slater."

  "Bring it, Dickhead!" That was Maggie.

  The Sherriff grinned at her. "Wow, you are quite the gal. Try not to assault any more of my citizens, okay? You two need to wrap up your business here. I don't think old Wally had anything to do with Lilly's disappearance either, but I'm not a big fan of outsiders sending my people to the hospital, or Private Investigators in general. Few more days, then you need to be on your way or I'm going to lose my patience. Long as old Wallace didn't hurt anyone, I'll be damn sure those boys leave him alone from now on. You okay, Mr. Slater?"

  "Sore ribs, and I'll probably piss blood for a day or two, but I'll live."

  "Okay then, you have my number."

  I leaned on Maggie and we started back to Wally Weston's house.

  "Sorry I got you into this mess Slater." Maggie grimaced, looking at my face.

  "Never a dull moment with you, Red. Remind me to stay on your good side. Do you teach baseball bat in those Karate classes of yours?"

  "That's the advanced class. I call it the "beat the stupid out of the redneck" section. Sorry I said we should leave our guns in the truck."

  "Not your fault. I could have said no to Tommy, but oh no, I had to show off! I should have gone to MacDonald's that night like I said I was going to."

  I should back up.

  Chapter Two

  Could you tighten your turn, Slater? I keep losing them behind the wingtip. Ever think about a Cessna or some other high winger?"

  "That's blasphemy woman." I banked harder and Maggie Jeffries put the binoculars back up to her face. "Can you see them Jasmine?" I turned back to look at the girl in the back seat of my Piper. She appeared unimpressed. We were circling the St. Johns River, looking down at a group of Manatee that were feeding along the shoreline far below us.

  "Yeah, cool." She looked down quickly then dropped the field glasses onto her chest and looked up at me again. "When are we going to go back? I'm hungry, and if you keep tipping this stupid airplane on its side, I'm going to hurl."

  "Did you see the calves?" Maggie asked. "They're so cute."

  "Cute? They look like potatoes that can swim. Fair warning Slater, if I throw up it's on you, and I do mean that literally."

  "Alright, stop your whining, we'll head back. Weather coming in anyway." I glanced at Maggie. "Your new little sister is a pain in the butt. Tell me again why we rescued her from that meth-head biker?"

  Jasmine Thatcher's grandmother was incredibly wealthy and she had sent Maggie and I to Atlanta to talk Jaz into leaving the middle-aged biker she had fallen in with. He wasn't happy about losing his teenage girlfriend and there had been a fight, some shooting, and Maggie had ended up with a nasty hole in one of her otherwise perfect legs. All things considered it could have been worse, but not much. At least Jasmine had reconsidered her life choices and returned to Jacksonville and her grandmother's mansion. Undoubtedly her affection for Maggie had a lot to do with that. They had bonded five minutes after they met and were still practically inseparable.

  "I know Slater, Saturday night, date night for you two lovebirds. I'm heading home right after we land so you can have Maggie all to yourself." She volunteered from the back seat.

  "No you don't Too Small. We're all having supper at the Jeffries' tonight and Angela is cooking. If I have to eat it, so do you."

  Maggie grinned and glanced back at the tiny girl. "Slater used to call me Too Small when I was a kid too."

  "She was as tall as you are now when she was ten." I added.

  Jasmine blushed and smiled at me. "Alright, if you insist, I'll come to dinner."

  If I was being honest, Jasmine Thatcher felt like my little sister too, or maybe my daughter, since I had seven years on Maggie. Suffice it to say I had become ex
tremely fond of the stubborn little wild child. At least she had let the shaved side of her head grow in so she didn't look like a lopsided Nazi. The blue hair covered the tattoo. Nobody had asked, but I approved.

  "Did Angela tell you about her dinner guest tonight?" Maggie grinned. "It's your old buddy, Tommy Ackerman."

  I snorted. "Have fun without me. Between Angela's cooking and that asshole, McDonald's is starting to sound pretty good."

  "No way PI, you're not bailing. Angie would think it really is because of her cooking, and Tommy is much more tolerable than he used to be, you won't need to knock him in the pool again. He's a lawyer now, and he'd probably sue you. I was going to wait to tell you but I figured a little warning might be nice. He wants to talk to us. He might have a job, an actual investigation job." I had shared my teenage fascination for Magnum PI with Maggie, so now she had started call me PI. Eric Slater PI, as if that were a thing. I hadn't decided if it was cute, or aggravating.

  "I have a job, and I really don't want to talk to him."

  "He's married Slater, and you have a serious girlfriend, so there's no reason for you two to fight over Angela anymore. Besides, you're an adult now and you claim to be evolved."

  "Really, I have a girlfriend? And it's serious?"

  "You're not funny. We need a job. I'm tired of teaching overprivileged teenagers how to hurt their friends. Tae-kwon-do is fun, but I want to investigate something. It's been weeks."

  "Well, I like being a carpenter. This is the best shape I've been in for years. I kind of let myself go there for a while. Contrary to what you two may think, I'm not sure I would have won that fight with Cletus Johnson if you hadn't popped him on the head with that beer bottle."

  Jaz snickered. "You didn't win that fight. As I remember we ended up running for our lives."

  "I'd be ready for him now, that's all I'm saying." That might have been a stretch, tough as Cletus Johnson had been, but I had lost ten pounds and put on a lot of muscle in the last month. I looked over at Maggie. "Why don't you take us in, you need to get ready for your flight test."