“I’m ready.”
“No, he’s ImReady. You’re TwinGirlsMom. You can’t pull this off, Sobs, if you can’t remember who you are.” Bob grinned.
“You’re weird, you know that? Let’s go.”
Sabre looked in the mirror and adjusted her blonde wig. Then they got out, locked the car, and walked up to the front of Starbucks.
“I’ll go inside, and you can wait outside at one of these tables,” Bob said. There were three large round tables on the concrete slab, set away from the coffee shop. Four more lined the building. “Sit at a table by the window, and I’ll be right near you on a barstool, just on the other side of the glass.” He pointed inside the café. “I’ll sit where I can see your face. Nod at me if he approaches you.”
“Won’t you be able to see if he approaches me?”
“Yes, but you need to nod if it’s the right guy.”
“Because so many men will be stopping by.” She gave him a sarcastic look.
“You never know. This is your first time out as a blonde.”
Bob walked away and Sabre followed.
“What are you doing? I thought you were going to stay out here.”
“I decided to get my own coffee. Then we don’t have to go through that awkward thing about who’s going to pay for it.”
“Whatever. But you could’ve at least got a free cup of joe out of this guy.”
Inside, Sabre bought a grande, decaf, mocha latte with half-and-half instead of milk.
Bob got a black house coffee. “Sobs, if at any time you want to get away from him, just give me a sign, and I’ll call you.”
“Good idea. What kind of sign?”
“I don’t know. Rub your ear or bang your head against the window. Just tell me what the signal is.”
“I think I’ll go with the ear rub. If you see me banging my head against the window, don’t bother to call, just come get me.” Sabre took her drink outside and sat down at one of the small tables by the window. She could see Bob only a few feet away from her. If it weren’t for the wall and window between them, they could’ve had a conversation.
A minute later, a man in jeans and a t-shirt walked up to her table. “Do I know you?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“We can remedy that. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Sabre smiled. “No, thank you. I’m waiting for someone.”
“Lucky guy,” he said and walked away.
Sabre turned toward Bob and slowly shook her head. Bob smiled and mouthed the word, Blondes.
“You look just like your photo.” The voice cut into her thoughts.
Sabre turned to see a man in a cheap charcoal suit, a light-blue shirt, and a black-and-green tie.
“Hello,” she said.
“It’s refreshing to see that you look like your photo. So many women don’t.”
“I take it you’ve done this a few times.”
“Not that many, but a few.” He reached out his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”
“I’m Say… Shay… Sheila.” Sabre couldn’t believe she’d almost said her real name. “Sorry, I guess I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be. This is the first time for me.”
“I’m glad to be your first,” he said with a smile. “I see you already have coffee.”
“Yeah, I got here a little early.”
“I’ll get mine and be right back.”
“Go ahead.” As he walked away, Sabre nodded at Bob.
Her date returned shortly and sat down across from her. “Tell me about yourself,” he said.
“Not much to tell. I’m a working mom with twin seven-year-old girls. They are my world. I keep pretty busy with all their activities, but mostly I’ve been trying to get them into modeling.” She paused, not wanting to come on too strong with the kid thing. “What about you? What kind of law do you practice?”
“I do a lot of different things. I’m a partner in a big firm.”
“Do you handle criminal cases?”
“I’ve done a murder case or two. Some drug stuff. Mostly I do the big medical malpractice cases.”
“That’s pretty impressive. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“I have a friend who’s involved in a lawsuit with her neighbor.”
“What happened?”
“A tree in her backyard fell on the neighbor’s house, and she got sued. The prosecutor—that’s what they call the attorney on the other side, correct?”
“That’s right.” He looked directly at her as if he was really listening.
“He said my friend would have to prove it didn’t happen. Does that make sense? Doesn’t the prosecutor have to prove the case?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Beyond a reasonable doubt?”
“That’s right.”
“She won’t have to do jail time if she loses, will she?”
“It’s not likely.”
Sabre struggled to keep from rolling her eyes. Finally, she said, “It’s just not fair.”
“Does she have an attorney?” he asked.
“She had one, but he got too expensive.”
Sam raised his hand, palm facing her. “Just a minute.” He removed his phone from his coat pocket, looked at the screen, then put it up to his ear and said, “What is it, John?” A moment of quiet. “We’re not settling for a mere million. Set it for trial.” Silence again. “I have to go. Just set the damn thing. They’ll come around, or we’ll kick their ass in court.”
Sabre was pretty certain it was a fake call meant to impress her, not to get away. It didn’t work.
Sam returned the phone to his pocket. “Sorry about that. I shut the ringer off, but I could feel the vibration. I get a lot of calls, and technically I should be working. I’ll only take the most important ones.”
“No problem. I’m sure you’re very busy.”
“Now, where were we?” Without pausing, he said, “Let’s not talk about law. That’s what I do all day. I know it’s important work, but I just want to relax and get to know you. You said you were a working mom. What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a waitress. The bad part is that I have to work nights, and I hate leaving my kids with a sitter.”
“Nothing wrong with being a waitress. My mom was one for years.” He smiled at her. “I drive racecars. I’m not big time or anything, but I’ve been in a few important races.”
Sabre thought she would vomit if he used the words I and important in one more sentence. He didn’t even segue from talking about her to himself. She went with it, and they talked about him for the next ten minutes. She tried once again to get the conversation back to herself and her twins, but within a minute or so, he was telling her about the triathlons he had won. Sabre rubbed her ear, and her phone rang a moment later.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, without saying hello.
“You rubbed?”
“Oh no.” Sabre tried to sound startled.
“No? You didn’t rub? Never mind then.” Bob laughed.
Sabre resisted the urge to glare at him. “Yes. I’ll be right there.” She clicked off the phone and stood. “I’m terribly sorry to cut this short, but one of my girls fell at school. I need to go.” She started to walk away.
“Don’t you want my phone number?” Sam called after her.
Sabre waved her hand in the air. “Just message me.” She kept walking, turned the corner, and waited at the car. About three minutes later, Bob showed up.
“Did he leave?” Sabre asked.
“Yes. I watched him pull away. I take it, he’s not Nesbitt.”
“Probably not. He seemed far more interested in himself than he did in my twin girls. I tried baiting him a couple of times, but it never worked. He always got the conversation back to him. One thing’s for sure; he’s not an attorney, or he’s the dumbest one I’ve ever met. I don’t think he knows the difference between civil and criminal court, and he sure doesn’t know the st
andard of proof for a civil case.”
“We’ll know for certain if it’s him real soon,” Bob said.
“How’s that?”
“I took photos of him, and I’ll show them to Laura.”
“Look at you, being the little detective.”
Chapter 35
JP, Sabre, and Morgan had dinner like a real family. They cleaned up the kitchen, Morgan got ready for bed, and Sabre read her a story. Once she was tucked in, JP came in and told her goodnight. Then Sabre and JP sat together on the sofa, JP with his coffee and Sabre with her herbal tea.
“You got the window replaced?” Sabre asked.
“Yes, but the damage to the body isn’t going to be cheap. The dents will need to be fixed, the holes filled, and the whole thing painted.” JP paused. “I think it might be time for a new truck.”
Surprised, Sabre looked at him. “Really? You’ve always been so attached to that truck.”
“I know, but I kinda been lookin’ at a new Chevy Silverado.”
“I know.” She smiled. She had noticed the ads on the computer screen when he searched. “Do you think you’ll get something soon?”
“Once this case is over, I’ll start looking.”
They sat there together, exchanging stories from the day.
“Is Gene okay?” Sabre asked.
“He’ll be fine. He’s tougher than a one-eared alley cat. How about Conner?”
“They didn’t keep him long in the ER. I went by juvenile hall to make sure he was put in protective custody. He was in a room by himself when I got there.”
“How’s he handling it?”
“He’s scared, but fine with not having to interact with anyone.” Sabre wrinkled her brow. “It’s unfortunate it happened, but still, the attack might help at the 707 hearing. It could make things worse if they thought he was just in a fight, but the probation officer saw what happened and is willing to testify on Conner’s behalf.”
“Do you know what prompted the kid to beat him up?”
“No idea.”
JP took a sip of coffee. “Gene and I are going to some bars tonight to see what we can find out.”
Sabre’s lip twitched a little. “Please be careful.”
~~~
Their first stop was at the bar where Lucky Len hung out. Lucky was seated at the counter between two men. Behind him stood two others.
“Do you know any of those guys with Lucky?” JP asked Gene.
“The one standing to his left is Skip Evans. I don’t know any of the others.”
“How well do you know Skip?”
“Well enough to ask him what’s going on. He’s in construction and gives me work every once in a while. He’s a decent enough guy.”
They sat at the bar nursing their beers, until Skip walked away from the crowd and toward the exit. Gene followed him outside. JP chatted with the bartender until Gene returned.
“What did you find out?” JP asked.
“Lucky has been braggin’ about getting rid of Bullet.”
“Did he actually say he shot him?”
“Everything but. He’s been saying things like ‘He won’t ever mess with me again. I saw to that.’ And ‘He messed with the wrong guy this time.’ That kind of stuff.”
The bartender overheard their conversation and said, “Smart move. Everyone hated Bullet, and they all keep buying Lucky drinks.”
“Is this the first time he’s said anything?” JP asked.
“Oh, he’s been bragging about it for a week now. Different crowd each time. That’s one way to get free drinks and look important.”
“You say that like you don’t think he killed him.”
“I know he didn’t.” The bartender smirked.
“Why’s that?” Gene asked.
“Because Lucky wasn’t even in town. He was camping with my sister.”
“Was Bullet a regular here?”
“He came in quite a bit. A couple of weeks ago, he and Lucky got into a fist fight out front. Lucky didn’t stand a chance. Bullet tossed him around like he was nothing. It was pretty humiliating, so I can see why Lucky wants to brag about getting even. But that’s all it is.”
“Lucky is a regular too?”
“Yeah, he came in every night until the fight. After that, he didn’t return until Bullet had died. I suspect he was too afraid. I don’t blame him—Bullet was one mean hombre.”
JP put down a twenty-dollar tip. “You hear a lot of talk. Anyone else bragging about doing him in?”
“Thanks,” the bartender said, picking up the twenty. “No one is as stupid as Lucky Len, but there is some speculation that it was a jealous husband.”
“Dean?” Gene asked.
“You know him?”
“We met once,” JP said.
“What is your interest in all this?” the bartender asked.
JP explained that Gene’s son was the kid who’d been arrested for the murder and that they were convinced he didn’t do it. The bartender seemed sympathetic.
“Do you think it was Dean?” JP asked.
He shook his head. “It could’ve been, I suppose, but I don’t think so.”
“Why’s that?” JP asked.
A thin woman with bleached-blonde hair took a seat at the bar nearby. “Excuse me,” the bartender said and walked over. He drew a tap beer, took the cash she put down, and gave her change. Then he returned. “Where were we?”
“Why do you think it wasn’t Dean who killed Bullet?” JP repeated.
“Because his wife has slept with half the bar. Why would he single out Bullet?”
“Dean knew she was sleeping with other guys?”
“There’s no way he couldn’t know. Everyone knew. But Bullet is the only one who actually threw it in Dean’s face. But my money’s still on Soper or Rankin, his so-called buddies.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because neither of them is talking about Bullet at all, and everyone knows how poorly Bullet treated both of them. There was no love lost between those guys.”
Chapter 36
The more people JP and Gene spoke to, the less they thought Dean had anything to do with Bullet’s murder. The same was true of the Professor who may have been trying to revenge his grandson after Bullet got him arrested for stealing cars. The consensus seemed to be that if it wasn’t the kid who’d been charged that killed him, it was most likely Soper and/or Rankin, or some stranger who Bullet happened to tick off. After an hour, they headed back out.
“Will you take me to The Conversation so I can see Soper and Rankin?” Gene asked. “Because if you won’t, I have to find another ride. But either way, I’m going now.”
“Okay,” JP said as they climbed into his truck. “I’ll take you there, but only to talk to them. “Don’t go all Elvis on me.” That’s what they called it when someone punched first and asked questions later. Their father, Elvis Torn, was known for that when they were kids. He’d done the same with them when they got in trouble. They often got their punishment before they could explain what happened.
“Dad knows how to kick ass and take names,” Gene said. “He might have something there.”
“Gene, I mean it. Let me handle this.”
“Sure, why not?”
When they arrived at the bar, JP said, “Why don’t I go in and see if they’re here. Maybe I can get them to come outside and talk to us.”
“Good idea.”
JP wasn’t sure he could trust Gene to wait, but he didn’t want him starting anything inside either. JP was nearly to the front door when he saw two men walking across the parking lot toward his pickup. It was Soper and Rankin. JP turned and hurried in their direction. When he was within ten feet, Gene jumped out of the truck and started punching, first Soper, then Rankin.
“Dammit, Gene!” JP shouted. Soper abruptly turned and swung at him, landing a blow to his chin. JP was stunned, but regained his footing quickly and threw punches at Soper, first in the face, then to the gut. Soper kept swingin
g, but he was intoxicated and not stable on his feet.
Gene had Rankin on the ground and was slamming him with punches to his face and upper body. After a minute, Gene jumped up. “Need help, little brother?”
JP grabbed Soper by the arm, swung him around, and threw him against the back of the car parked next to his truck. He patted him down to make sure he wasn’t packing a gun. “I got this.”
“I bet they’ll talk now,” Gene said.
JP turned just in time to see Rankin get up and come at Gene. JP yelled, “Behind you.”
Gene spun around, ducking down as he did, and Rankin swung at air. Gene hit him hard in the gut. When Rankin doubled over from the blow, Gene kneed him in the chin, knocking him backward. Gene stepped forward and threw a left hook that landed squarely on Rankin’s jaw, sending him to the pavement. Gene’s boot came down hard on his triceps.
“What the hell is your beef with me?” Rankin mumbled.
“I have a few questions,” Gene said. “Let’s start with who shot Bullet.”
“How the hell should I know?”
“I’m convinced it was one of you two, just not sure which one.” Gene removed his foot from the thug’s arm. “Get up. Maybe it’ll help clear your brain.”
Rankin stood, turned his back as if he intended to step away, then spun and punched Gene with a drunken blow. Gene shoved him against the tailgate of JP’s truck. Then he grabbed him by the throat and pressed him hard against the metal.
“You just don’t know when to stop, do you?” Gene said.
“I think you poked the bear,” JP said.
“The bear better start talking before I shoot the bear.” Gene loosened his grip.
“I don’t know who killed Bullet,” Rankin grumbled. “It was probably that kid of yours. He hated him.”
“Everybody hated Bullet, including you. He treated you both like crap, and you just took it. Which tells me he had something on you. Did you decide to cut the ties?”
“Bullet didn’t control me.”
Gene let go of Rankin and stepped back, still not taking his eye off him. He moved toward Soper. JP backed up. “So much for letting me do the talking.”
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