Stirring Up Murder

by P. D. Workman

  For a moment, the room just sat in stunned silence. Charley looked at Erin like she was crazy.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I told you that you were my half-sister. My mother’s child. With Adam Plaint. That means you’re Trenton Plaint’s sister too, and you and Davis both inherit a half share of the bakery.”

  “What bakery? Your bakery?”

  “No, Angela Plaint’s bakery. The Bake Shoppe. In Bald Eagle Falls.”

  “And you think I own half of it now?” She shook her head in confusion. “No one has contacted me about that.”

  Erin looked at Charley, blinking as the possibilities each clicked into place.

  “Erin,” Willie said, “maybe Bobby wasn’t the target. Maybe that was just misdirection. Maybe this was all about Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte,” Erin repeated. “The masked man. He didn’t say… your nickname. He said Charlotte.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Because it means he didn’t know you. He didn’t know you personally, and he didn’t know you through… your boss. He only knew your name.”

  “Okay. So he didn’t know me. That’s kind of a relief. I’d rather it wasn’t someone I know. But again… what does it matter?”

  “No one told you that you were an heir to Trenton’s estate?”

  “I think I’d remember that.”

  “Somebody should have come.” Erin looked at Vic and Willie for their input. “Alton Summers was hired by Clementine’s estate to find me. He was hired by Angela’s estate to find Trenton and Davis and then to look into Adam’s disappearance. It’s what he does. So why didn’t they hire him to find Charlotte?”

  “Maybe they did… maybe Davis himself did,” Willie said.

  “I’m telling you, no one called me,” Charley reiterated.

  Willie’s eyes were bright against his dark face. “Think about it. Davis doesn’t want to split the estate fifty-fifty. He wants to run The Bake Shoppe. And if he can’t open The Bake Shoppe, then he wants to get the money for it. All the money for it, not half. So he hires Alton to find Charlotte, but not to inform her of her rights in the estate. To get her out of the picture.”

  Charley swore under her breath. All eyes in the room were on her. “Nelson said that the masked man ‘wound Bobby up’ and then killed him when things got out of hand. Why would he intentionally wind Bobby up?”

  “So Bobby would break up with you,” Erin deduced.

  “A messy breakup with Bobby Dyson would mean you would have to leave,” Willie said. “There’s no way you could stay here and continue to work with the Dysons if there was bad blood between you and Bobby.”

  “Wait a minute,” Mr. Jackson was starting to clue in to what they were talking about. He pointed to Charley. “This is Bobby’s girlfriend?” He turned to Vic. “You brought one of the Dyson clan into my house?”

  “We had to find out who killed Bobby—” Vic started to explain.

  “You’re working for the Dysons? My own son?”

  “I’m—no—they just… they kidnapped Charley, and she’s Erin’s sister, so we were trying to help her out…”

  Mr. Jackson was struggling to his feet, using the cane to push himself up. “I thought when you left here that there couldn’t be anything worse than my son deciding he was gay or a girl or whatever the crap you came up with. I thought I could never be more disappointed and embarrassed by your behavior.” He made it to his feet and glared at Vic, his eyes blazing. “Was I ever wrong. Not only do you think you can switch sexes, you think you can switch families and start working for the Dysons as well! You are a traitor to this family. You’ve gone against everything we believe in.”

  Vic got up. The rest of them did as well, not sure how to react to Mr. Jackson’s anger. Vic stood before her father, hands up, watching him warily.

  “We’ll go,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m going.”

  “You’ll go, will you?” He advanced on her. “You’ve stopped using the family name, and that’s a good thing. You are no longer a Jackson. You will never come by here again. We shoot trespassers in these parts, keep that in mind. I don’t ever want to see you or hear from you again. Your mother, either. No contact ever again.”

  Vic’s voice was choked. “Okay. I won’t.”

  He took another step and swung the cane. Erin wasn’t close enough to do anything about it, but she reacted instinctively, throwing her hands up as if she could block the cane. “No!”

  The first blow landed on the back of Vic’s upper thigh, with a resounding thwack. There was no second blow. Willie grabbed the cane and wrenched it out of Mr. Jackson’s hand. He got in Mr. Jackson’s face, the cane held threateningly in his hand.

  “You will never lay your hands on her again!”

  “If he comes back here, I’ll do what I need to. How about you keep him away?” Mr. Jackson stared at Willie, eye-to-eye, not backing down. “Now that I know you all came from the Dysons, I know who you are. William, he called you. Willie Andrews. Outcast from your own family. A filthy, lazy, degenerate. You and James…?” He flicked a glance at Vic. “You’re disgusting. I should have you charged with corrupting a minor.”

  “Vic is not a minor.”

  “He was when he left here.” Mr. Jackson took in Willie’s look of surprise. “Oh, he may have told you he was eighteen, but he wasn’t. He just turned eighteen this Christmas.”

  Erin looked over at Vic. She had wondered more than once whether Vic was telling the truth about her age. There were times when she seemed so young. A few months really didn’t make a difference one way or another, but it did confirm Erin’s suspicions that the runaway hadn’t quite been able to wait until her eighteenth birthday to strike out on her own.

  Vic was rubbing the back of her leg where her father had struck her, clearly aching from the blow. Willie gave Mr. Jackson one more warning look, then stepped back from him, took Vic around the shoulders, and escorted her out of the room. Erin and Charley followed them out, staying as far from Mr. Jackson as possible.

  Mrs. Jackson was in the kitchen wringing her hands. “Oh, no,” she wept. “Oh, no, James. Please. Talk to your father. Make up. Don’t leave like this, with everybody on bad terms. You can come home. He’ll cool down again and he’ll regret what he said. Please don’t leave.”

  Vic shook her head. She didn’t hug her mother again before leaving. She just walked on by, protected by Willie’s embrace. Before leaving the kitchen, Willie threw Mr. Jackson’s cane down on the floor with a clatter.

  Erin was relieved when they got out to the car, but it wasn’t over. A pickup truck was bouncing down the road approaching the house.

  Erin watched it with alarm. With four of them facing Mr. Jackson, she had felt threatened, but not too afraid. Having more men from the Jackson clan closing in, she felt just as scared as she had been in the Dyson mansion. It was a different setting, but again facing the possibility of armed clan soldiers with overwhelming force, she felt almost sick with fear.

  Vic stopped in her tracks. Willie stopped and encouraged her to get into the car. They could get in the car and drive away. They could probably outrun the truck if they had to. They could call the police.

  There was probably no 9-1-1 service and they’d have to wait until they got back into Moose River. Now that they knew—or strongly suspected—who had hired the masked man, they had something to take to the police. They could explain all that had happened and the police would drop the charges against Charley.

  They would all be safe, because the Dysons would know that it wasn’t the Jackson clan who had ordered his son killed. It had just been Davis, and he and Alton had screwed it up. Alton had planned to make Bobby mad enough to throw Charley out and make her run, but he hadn’t expected Bobby to be so furious that he would try to kill Charley. After that, he’d done everything he could to get her to run.

  The pickup pulled to a stop a few feet away from Willie’s car, skidding in the gravel and sending clo
uds of dust into the air. The doors opened and the men jumped out of the truck, fanning out to look the strangers over.

  “It’s James!” one young man crowed. He pushed toward her, his blond hair streaming out behind him, and Erin recognized him as Jeremy. “Vic. How’s it going, little sister?” He gave her a hard hug, and looked around at the rest of them, eyes sparkling. “Erin, Willie.” He shook his head at Charley. “I don’t know you, but welcome!”

  “We’re leaving,” Vic said quietly. “Pa…”

  “Aw, come on. Pa’s bark is worse than his bite, pay him no mind.”

  Vic shook her head, rubbing the back of her leg. “His bite’s pretty bad today too. I can’t stay, Jer, and I won’t be back.”

  He stared at her. The other young men were not as enthusiastic as Jeremy. They greeted Vic with awkward handshakes and slaps on the back, unsure what to call her or how to talk to her, too embarrassed to hug her.

  “Y’all know where to find me,” Vic said. “You want to visit, just come by Auntie Clem’s Bakery in Bald Eagle Falls. It’s not that far away. And Jeremy knows where the house is.” She sniffled, her eyes glistening with tears. “I can’t come back here and I can’t call, so if you want to keep in touch, y’all have to reach out to me. Otherwise… I’ll assume you don’t want anything to do with me either.”

  They made noises of protest. Jeremy gave her another hug. “Vic. I don’t know what happened, but don’t just leave like this. Mom misses you so bad. She cries all the time. You have to come back and visit. Don’t worry about what Pa says…”

  “He said he’ll shoot any trespassers, Jer. He’ll shoot me. You think I’m going to take the chance that he might just be full of hot air? He near ’nough broke my leg with that durn cane of his! I’m not coming back. You know where to find me.”

  “Okay,” Jeremy finally conceded. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you. You take care of yourself.” He looked over at Willie. “You take care of my sister.”

  There were murmurs from the other boys. Embarrassed laughs over Jeremy calling Vic his sister. But Jeremy showed no embarrassment. He stood and watched as they all got into Willie’s car, then waved as Willie pulled out.

  Once they were out of sight of the boys and the white farmhouse, Vic put her hands over her face and sobbed.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  C

  harley made no attempt to comfort Vic and tell her that everything was going to be fine this time. She didn’t tell her that there was no reason to be so upset over some silly clothes. They were all quiet as Willie drove back to Moose River. Willie turned on the radio and managed to find a weak signal, and they listened to scratchy-sounding country on the way back, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

  When they reached the city limits, Vic had stopped crying, had wiped her face with the voluminous hoodie, and was breathing more naturally.

  “Why would Davis just try to scare Charley off?” Erin asked Willie. “After killing Trenton and Bernie, why would he balk at Charley?”

  “Maybe he didn’t,” Willie said, glancing back at Erin. “Maybe that was Alton, if Alton is the masked man. Maybe he drew the line at murder. He’s never had a problem with verbal threats and blackmail. Maybe just scaring Charley off was his idea.”

  Vic cleared her throat. “Or maybe it’s because Davis has already lost one sister.” She wiped her eyes.

  “Sophie?”

  Vic nodded. “He doesn’t have any family left other than Charley. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She is his baby sister, just like she’s yours.”

  They called Terry rather than Jack Ward. Terry knew them and he would trust their deductions before a cop who barely knew anything about them. He got Tom to take the remainder of his shift and drove into Moose River to meet them at Charley’s apartment.

  They had talked about finding somewhere neutral where the Dysons wouldn’t know to find them. But Vic desperately needed to put on her own clothes again and none of them had the mental energy to go shopping for replacements. So they went back to Charley’s apartment. Willie scouted it out before they went in, looking for anyone who might be keeping surveillance.

  “At least if they come, we’ll have something to tell them this time,” Charley said, not too worried about it.

  “But anything we tell Nelson, he’s likely to take action on,” Erin pointed out. “We don’t want to get anyone killed when all we have is speculation.”

  Charley shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like these guys are exactly upstanding citizens. If they get themselves into the middle of an organized crime murder, they can expect to be targeted.”

  “Like you? You managed to get yourself into the middle of it, but you didn’t do anything. Nelson or his father can act as judge, jury, and executioner, but that doesn’t mean justice is served. Killing you would have been a mistake, and the same might be true of Davis or Alton Summers. We don’t know the extent of their crimes and we don’t want to get them killed.”

  Charley shrugged. “I’m not trying to get anyone killed, but if the Dysons show up… I don’t feel like being the sacrificial lamb.”

  Vic had disappeared immediately into Charley’s bedroom. It was a while before she came out, herself once again. The makeup was flawlessly applied, all signs of distress eliminated, other than her red-rimmed eyes and the slight puffiness under them.

  Erin gave her a hug. “Are you okay?”

  Vic nodded and forced a smile. “I’m just as fine as a home-cooked meal. How long will we have to wait for Terry?”

  “He’s going to get Tom to finish out his shift, so we don’t have to wait that long. Just a couple of hours for him to drive here.”

  “Or however long it takes,” Vic agreed. “I have a feeling he might just use his lights and siren and shave off a bit of time.”

  “Maybe. At least we don’t have to wait until tonight.”

  “You really do look good,” Charley said, looking Vic over. “I never would guess that you were…” she trailed off, suddenly awkward over how to finish the sentence.

  “Vic always looks good,” Erin said firmly. “I guess we just sit down and relax and wait now. Maybe order in something to eat? I’ll cover the bill this time.”

  “You want pizza again? We didn’t exactly finish it last time.”

  “Sure.” Erin nodded. She looked at Vic. “You’ll love it. It’s the most amazing pizza ever. Willie…?”

  Willie was distracted, looking out the window. Daydreaming or watching for bad guys? Willie looked around at his name.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Pizza?”

  “Sure. Sounds good.”

  Erin sat down with a sigh. Vic lowered herself carefully to the couch, wincing as she settled on it.

  “Are you okay?” Erin asked. “Do you want… some ice or something for your… leg?”

  Vic shifted uncomfortably. “Feels like I got hit by a car. That old man really has an arm.”

  “It must really hurt.”

  “I’ve been whipped worse, but not many times. If you guys weren’t there and he got me down…” Vic rubbed the injured area, trying to sit in a way that didn’t put pressure on it. “What makes him think he can still hit me like that? I’m an adult, I’m not a child anymore!”

  Erin’s anger rose again at the thought of Mr. Jackson hitting a defenseless child with his cane. How could any person treat a child like that and consider themselves a good person? Erin couldn’t even call him a Christian in her mind, knowing that the myths of Jesus had him preaching kindness toward children. Mr. Jackson couldn’t profess to follow such a man and then whip his own child like an animal. Erin would never even have treated an animal that way.

  She swallowed and tried not to let her anger show.

  “He’s got no right to hurt you. You could charge him with assault.” She knew Vic never would.

  “I know… but I don’t want any trouble. Things are bad enough already. You saw that. They can disown me, but I
don’t want to end up in a feud with them. Despite what they might say… I haven’t joined the enemy. I’m just helping out Charley.”

  Charley had been talking on her phone, Erin presumed with the pizza restaurant. She hung up and looked over at Vic at the mention of her name.

  “What?”

  “Just saying that I wasn’t going against my family by helping you out…”

  Charley nodded slowly. “Hey, I didn’t follow everything you were saying at your house, but…”

  Vic raised her eyebrows. “Yeah…?”

  “You’re a Jackson.”

  “Right. Born one, anyway, I’ve changed my name.”

  “And your aunt is related to the guy who killed Bobby.”

  “Related to the guy who hired him, anyway,” Erin clarified. “Davis. He’s Angela’s son.”

  “My half-brother.”

  Vic and Erin nodded together.

  “So it was the Jacksons who were responsible for Bobby’s death.”

  Vic hesitated. “Well… I suppose technically. But he was just doing it for himself, not because the family ordered it.”

  “And I’m a Jackson? Was my father a Jackson, or just his wife?”

  Vic shrugged. “They’re all clan. So I guess you are too.”

  Willie chuckled. Charley turned and looked at him.

  “A Jackson working for the Dysons?” Willie said. “I think you’re going to be out a job, if you weren’t already.”

  Charley rubbed her head. “This is crazy.”

  Erin felt like she hadn’t seen Terry in days. The handsome policeman in uniform was a welcome sight, and she felt much better with him there.