by Tess Oliver
Chapter 21
Jackson
I looked in on Charli. The creak on the door, a squeak I’d been meaning to fix for months, woke her. She peered up from her cocoon of blankets. Her eyes and nose were pink from smoke and crying, but she still looked beautiful.
“Didn’t mean to wake you. I made some eggs. But I have to warn you, I’m way better at kissing than I am at cooking.”
She smiled and sat up. Her copper hair tumbled all around her face and shoulders. With the exception of her highly impractical sequined costume, all of her clothes had been destroyed. She’d pulled on one of my shirts to sleep. Thinking of her naked body wrapped in my shirt was far more erotic than any silky female undergarments. “Well, since you are an exceptional kisser your food must still be quite palatable.”
I opened the door, a wooden spoon dangling from my fingers. “Maybe I used the wrong comparison. If you don’t mind some rubbery scrambled eggs, then come on out. Rose and Gideon are already eating.”
She swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. She reached for her black ankle boots, the ones she’d used on the motorcycle and the only shoes she had left. She pulled them on without lacing them and stared down at her attire. “I’m ready for a church social, don’t you think?”
“Trust me, a church social is the last thing I’m thinking of when I see you standing there in my shirt. Even with the boots. In fact, the boots make it that much better.”
I walked over and hugged her. Yesterday had been one unbearable heartbreak after another, ending with the destruction of the carnival, an event that was still hard to grasp. The only thing making the catastrophic end to the night worse was not knowing what had happened to Emma. Seeing now the true scope of what Griggs was capable of, I held out little hope for the girl. But I didn’t say a word to Charli. She had been shaken to her core and didn’t need anything else to add to it.
Rose smiled weakly at Charli as we walked into the kitchen. I walked to the coffee pot to pour her a cup as she pulled up a chair across from Rose. I put the cup down in front of Charli, along with a plate of eggs.
“Some night, huh?” Gideon asked wryly and then seemed to remember the gash on his mouth. “Ouch, shit.” He pressed his hand against it to stop it from bleeding again.
“If I’d known it would be that easy to shut you up, I would have smacked you long ago,” I quipped, hoping to lighten the bleak mood at the table.
“Yeah, you and what army?” Gideon muttered, hardly moving his lips.
Rose giggled. “Hey, that’s pretty good. We could get you one of those creepy looking dolls, and you could join a vaudeville act as a vent— ventri—” Rose waved her hand. “Never mind. Ruins the whole idea when I can’t even pronounce the damn thing.” She propped her elbow on the table and dropped her face, resting her forehead against her hand. “Hell, did all this really happen? Poor Buck, poor Dodie, poor us.” She lifted her face and reached across for Charli’s hand. Charli removed her fingers from the cup she’d been cradling and took hold of Rose’s hand.
“We’ll figure something out,” Charli said. “The most important thing now is getting Emma back.” Her golden brown eyes sparkled with hope as she peered up at me. It was all I could do not to look away from her expectant face. I swallowed hard to push back the dread I was feeling and nodded very unconvincingly. I sat down next to her.
“Where is your brother, Bodhi?” Charli asked.
“He and Noah left early this morning to head over to the carnival site and help with the clean-up.” Buck and most of the others had spent all night combing through the rubbish, looking for anything salvageable. Far as we knew, Griggs and his men never showed their faces. Not even to check out their handiwork.
“That’s really sweet of him,” Rose said.
A laugh spurted from Gideon’s mouth. Again, he pressed his hand against the gash. “Those boys are hoping they’ll come across something valuable, or at least valuable to them, in the ashes.” Gideon leaned back against his chair. He peered at me from beneath swollen lids. “What do you think will happen to Griggs?”
“Surely, the police will arrest him.” Charli straightened. “Then he can lead them to Emma.” She turned to me, obviously hoping for a better answer than I had to give her.
Coward that I was, I stared down at my plate rather than see her beautiful, sanguine face. “Most of the law around here are on Griggs’s payroll one way or another.”
“What do you mean on his payroll? Do you mean the police are working for a gangster?” Charli asked.
“Not working directly for him.” I finally worked up the courage to look at her. “Let’s just say they are paid to not work against him. They look the other way most of the time.”
“Bribes?” The sweet optimism that had sparkled there a few minutes earlier had turned to disbelief. Her thin shoulders sank, and she stared sadly down at her untouched plate of eggs. “You have to be wrong, Jackson.” Her bottom lip trembled as she looked up at me. “This isn’t just bootlegging or an illegal betting pool. They’ve destroyed the entire lives and futures of at least a hundred carnies. They are damn lucky no one died in those fires, but still, what they did was so grave, I can’t imagine the police will just ignore it. And then there’s Emma.” Her voice dropped off.
Rose sniffled at the mention of her friend’s name.
“Charli has a point.” Gideon looked at me for confirmation.
“There will have to be some kind of proof. I talked to Buck last night while we were waiting for the firemen to finish dousing any burning embers. He said he’d asked around and no one saw how it started.” Something had been pecking at me like an angry hen. The last time I’d accused Buck of doing something bad, Charli had stormed off in anger. But this seemed like a question that had to be asked. “Did Buck have the show insured?”
She blinked at me. “Not sure. Why do you ask?” Then it seemed to dawn on her. This time there was no anger. There was just anguish and sadness. “I just can’t believe he’d purposely set the place on fire. And right in the middle of a busy night. I need to go see Buck.” She shot up from her chair and then seemed to remember her lack of clothing. She sat back down hard on the seat. “I don’t even have any clothes.”
I got up. “I think I can find you some pants that will fit. Ma always stored all of our old clothes in a trunk. I’m sure I can find them. Bodhi used to be scrawny and skinny.”
She crossed her arms and lifted a smooth brow at me. “So, I’m scrawny and skinny?”
“No, you are spectacular and perfect.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“And, you sir, are a liar, but go get me the pants. I can’t confront Buck dressed in nothing but your shirt.”
The trunk with the old clothes was in a corner of the cellar. I sorted through them to a pair of worn denim jeans that were small enough for Charli. I heard the vibrating motor of Noah’s old car through the cellar window. I climbed back up the splintery ladder with the dusty smelling jeans.
I reached the kitchen just as Bodhi and Noah pushed in through the front door, both looked as if they were being chased by a monster. Bodhi looked around the room with wide eyes, apparently not expecting Rose and Charli to be sitting at the table. His face was blanched white, and his chest heaved with breaths as if they’d run all the way here. Noah shrank back behind Bodhi, not wanting to be seen.
“Christ, Bodhi,” I said, “you two get into some kind of trouble? Did Buck catch you trying to run off with some carnival souvenirs?”
Bodhi stared hard at me. He was trying to tell me something, and whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
I smiled. “That’s all right,” I said, putting on a performance for our two already fragile guests. “You’re embarrassed. I’ll walk outside with you, and you can confess.” Without waiting for his answer, I put an arm around his shoulder and walked him back outside. We didn’t stop until we got far enough from the house that no one inside could hear. By the time we reached the car, my stomach had kno
tted into an iron ball. Something bad had happened.
I glanced back at the house to make sure no one had followed, then I turned to Bodhi and Noah. “What happened?” I asked.
“That girl, the one who was missing—” Bodhi looked close to throwing up.
“Emma?”
“Yeah, that’s her. She showed up today.”
For a brief second, I felt relief, but the look on my brother’s face wiped it away.
“She was dead, Jacks. Noah and I were sweeping up trash right in front of where the entrance was. An old beat up box truck, a truck I’d never seen before, pulled up to the lot. The back doors flew open, and they dropped out what we thought was just a rolled up rug. Then the truck raced away.” Bodhi swallowed hard to keep down his stomach contents. “She was dead.”
Noah’s eyes widened as he glanced at something over my shoulder. “Jackson,” he whispered.
I turned around. She’d walked up so quietly, I hadn’t heard her footsteps. Charli’s face was stone white. She crossed her arms around herself to control the shivering. “Jackson,” she said quietly, “who’s dead?”
Chapter 22
Charli
Rose had been nearly inconsolable as we rode back to the carnival site. Joey and Dodie had gone to fetch the police. Buck and the others were standing huddled around, crying and holding each other for support. I was relieved to see that Gypsy and Rusty had been led to safety. The two animals were as much a part of the family as the humans.
I’d gone to bed wondering if the previous day had just been a bad dream, but it seemed the nightmare had followed us right into the next morning. And this, the gut-wrenching news that poor little Emma, an unwitting participant in it all, was dead, had been the final blow. I’d always lectured her about giving her heart away too quickly and trusting men she barely even knew. But, here in Virginia, at the base of the mountains that were eerily blue one second and majestic and purple the next, I had finally seen the world through her eyes. I now understood what it was like to fall for a man and, without hardly knowing him, hand him your heart with no questions asked.
I held Rose as we stepped out of the car. A breeze pushed up from the Piedmont, the mass of land stretching out far past the barren cornfields to the sea. Normally, the small gusts brought with them faint whiffs of the Atlantic and the wild grasses and flowers that covered the uninhabited stretches of land. But this morning, the wind brought only the ugly reminder of what had happened here. Gone were the sweet smells of cotton candy and popcorn. Gone were the whimsical striped tents shifting and billowing with the activity beneath their pointy tops. Gone were the smiling faces of the carnies, the painted faces of the clowns and performers, the awestruck expressions of little kids holding tightly to their prizes and hot dogs.
The air over the cornfields was stale and sour with lingering smoke and all the other foul, noxious odors that’d come with the rapid and violent destruction of the carnival. But the destruction hadn’t ended with the carnival. We’d lost a family member forever.
Buck glanced up as the four of us walked toward the group hovering over Emma’s lifeless body. My stepfather looked smaller, less robust somehow. His beard was no longer twitching with thoughts of how to make the show better. It hung frazzled and limp below a frown so deep, it seemed he’d never smile again.
I wasn’t completely sure what made me do it. Buck’s bad decisions and greed had caused all of this, and yet, he was still the only true family I had. I hated him for what he’d done, but I felt sorry for him. And there was always that lasting connection between us through my mother. I raced over to him. His eyes widened, as if he wasn’t sure what I would do once I reached him. In truth, I wasn’t completely sure until I was near enough to see that familiar round face peering out from the mass of facial hair. I broke into sobs and landed in his big arms.
“It’s all my fault,” Buck cried as he held me. “I’ve ruined everything. I’m a useless old man who should be taken out and shot like a lame horse.”
I pulled from his arms and looked up at him. “I’m not going to argue with you on that, Buck.”
Hurt splintered across his face.
“You’ll get no sympathy from me on this. I love you because you’re family but all this falls on your shoulders. You’ve lost everything. We’ve lost everything. This carnival wasn’t just yours. It belonged to all of us who put sweat, blood and tears into making it a success.” I looked around at the sorrow-filled, teary eyed faces. Everyone’s attention was on Buck and me. “Look at these people, Buck. Look at poor little Emma.” My voice was leaving me as my throat grew hoarse and dry. “This time there’s no way to dig yourself out. It’s over. This is over.”
Jackson knelt down next to Emma and turned her face to the side to check out the bruising around her neck. He paused for a second and leaned closer almost as if he was planning to whisper in her ear. Then he peered up at his brother. “Gideon, come down here for a second.”
Gideon reluctantly left Rose’s side and walked over to the body. He knelt down next to Jackson.
“Lean down and tell me what you smell.”
Gideon’s big shoulders dropped over Emma, shading her pale white face from the sun. Then he straightened. “Sarsaparilla?”
“Right.” Jackson’s blue eyes glimmered with an idea.
It took me a second to remember where I’d recently smelled the spicy, sweet scent of sarsaparilla. Griggs. He seemed to always being wearing hair grease or tonic that smelled like a soda fountain.
“Buck, how long would you say until the police get here?” Jackson asked.
“Not sure. Dodie and Joey left a half hour ago.”
Jackson and Gideon stood up. “Gid, make sure the police make note of that sarsaparilla odor. Griggs and his men are always expert at making sure nothing can be traced back to them, but this time, they messed up.” He walked over, took hold of my arms and kissed me. “Stay near the others. It’s still not safe. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Going to go find a way to nail Griggs and his men to the wall for good.” He walked back to the car with those same broad, confident shoulders I’d noticed on the first day I met him. It was that same self-assured way of carrying himself that made me think this was no ordinary man. This was a man I could easily spend five hours crying over.
Chapter 23
Jackson
On this trip there was no time to notice the historical architectural details of the mansion. I only hoped that Mr. Albert was at home and willing to speak to a bootlegger who’d arrived without the usual cases of white lightning. His butler, a man whose eyebrows were far thicker than the hair on his head, opened the door. He was obviously practiced at putting on a dignified, stony expression no matter who came to the door. But his bushy brows twitched just a tiny bit at the sight of me. I’d pulled on my coat and fedora, but I knew I looked nothing like one of the stuffed shirts on Capitol Hill.
“Is Mr. Albert in?”
“I’ll check. Who may I say is calling?”
“Tell him J.J. is here to talk business.”
With no invitation to wait in the marble floored entryway, I stayed out on the porch. The butler shut the front door. Moments later, he motioned me in with an expression that bordered on an eye roll. He led me down the hall to a paneled door and knocked.
“Come in,” Mr. Albert called.
I stepped inside. Mr. Albert stood from behind a carved mahogany desk and walked to the front of it. I glanced around the room. The walls were lined with dark cherry wood shelves that held hundreds of volumes of leather bound books. A world map that looked more of an antique than a useful resource covered the wall behind the desk.
Mr. Albert reached back into a box of cigars. “Best in town,” he said as held one up to me.
“No, thank you. I’m sure they’re excellent.”
“What brings you around here, son?” There was always a little something about the man that had reminde
d me of Ole Roy. It wasn’t in the way he looked but rather in the way he spoke, with that confident, likable tone that easily won the trust of people. Having him refer to me as son brought back a feeling of nostalgia. In times like this, I truly missed my pa.
“Some weeks ago, you mentioned working directly, leaving out the undesirable middleman.”
He grimaced at my mention of the middleman. “Yes, despicable man, that Griggs, I’m afraid I’m planning on cutting off his business. I’ve been advised to break relations with the man.”
“That’s good advice. I don’t know if you heard about the traveling carnival—”
He pulled the cigar from his lips and spoke over the puffs of smoke. “Burnt to the ground. What a shame. I heard everyone made it out safely, and that’s what’s important. Still, those poor people who have lost their livelihoods.” The man had a reputation as a highly-skilled, never take no for an answer lobbyist, but there was something genuine in his character. And I saw it as he expressed his sympathies for the carnival workers.
“Unfortunately, someone was hurt,” I said.
“Oh?”
“One of the girls, a dancer, was killed.”
“Oh dear, I was told everyone survived.”
“She didn’t die in the fire. Griggs killed her.”
His reached up and smoothed down the few thin hairs of his meager moustache. “Then I really must cut my ties with the man. How do you know he killed her? Is there proof?” He walked around and sat in his throne-like chair. “I don’t think we need to pretend here, J.J.. Griggs has some strong ties with the shadier half of law enforcement in this area. That’s part of the reason for his success. It might be difficult to pin this on him.”
“There is proof. That’s why I came here to see you, sir. You and I can continue business. I will bring you that tasty liquor you’ve grown so fond of for a cheaper price. But Griggs has to be out of the way.”
He stared at me with some confusion.