by Carrie Marsh
“Yeah.” His voice was deep like his vocal chords were buried in a gravel pit. “I don’t see anything here. She probably lost it,” he grumbled into the phone. “I’m telling you I looked all over the place. Nothing is here. It doesn’t look like she was ever here.”
The biker clicked his tongue. “I still get my money.”
Still on his knee, he continued his conversation for a few more minutes, then grunted what Mary could only assume was a goodbye and hung up the phone, stuffing it back into his pocket.
He pushed himself up off the bed and, as he did so, knocked loose a sizeable cockroach that landed on Mary’s gloved hand. It sat there for a moment, its antennae waving wildly as it assessed what just happened. Mary didn’t like bugs and the sight of one roach made her realize there were probably dozens if not hundreds more waiting to begin their exploration and conquest of the newly abandoned house. Her skin rippled beneath her clothes.
Mary watched as the boots slowly made their way out of the room, the light snapping off, leaving her in complete darkness. She heard him walk down the hallway, through the living room and around the kitchen, where a squeaky door opened and then shut quietly.
Mary had seen enough movies to know that this could be a set-up. She listened as hard as possible and was almost positive she heard footsteps outside in the grass walking away. Finally, with a pounding heart, she scooted out from underneath the bed and stood up. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She didn’t want to turn her flashlight on, just in case anyone was still watching the house. As she tiptoed to the front door, the unmistakable rumble of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle could be felt as much as it was heard about a block away, getting closer and closer. Mary saw the bright eye of its single headlight race past the front room windows, rattling them as well as her heart in her chest.
Thinking better of waltzing out the front door, Mary retraced the biker’s steps and left through the broken kitchen door. Once out in the backyard, she wove her way back along the sidewalk quickly. In her haste, she had forgotten to pull off her rubber gloves and when the sound of the motorcycle engine idling finally caught her attention, it was too late to stop. Just feet from her car, the familiar leather Outlaw vest sat casually on his thundering motorcycle and waited, for what, Mary wasn’t sure.
Walking with courage she was desperately pulling up from the very bottoms of her feet, she saw the man was lighting a cigarette. From his silhouette, she saw he had a chubby face with stubble and a ponytail that was mostly pulled from the back and sides instead of anything he might have had on top.
He looked at Mary. Mary looked at him, then quickly to her car. With trembling hands, she pulled her keys out of her pocket and got behind the wheel. Before the car engine was alive and running, the biker kicked his bike into gear and sped away.
Mary let out a long gasp and put her hands on her head. It was only then she realized she had left her gloves on. Perhaps she made that Outlaw biker wonder what the heck she was up to, wearing rubber gloves just like she was wondering what he was up to in Bruce McGovern’s house.
Taking a deep breath, Mary collected herself then put the car in drive and left this part of town.
So, it was obvious that Bruce had left. Whether her visit at the Little Dog Lounge was what prompted it or if he had plans to leave all along, she didn’t know. Maybe he was heading to Bloomington, Indiana to see if he couldn’t still get in the fall semester. Maybe he had family somewhere. For some reason, Mary hoped it was the latter.
People needed a safe place to fall when things got to be too much. Lord knew Mary would have done a world of things different with Andrew now that she looked back. But she’d always loved him. Did Bruce have a mama he knew always loved him? Mary hoped so. She would encourage him to do the right thing. Wouldn’t she?
Snapping out of her trance as she drove, Mary not only wondered what that biker was looking for but who was asking about it on the other end of the phone? What were they paying him for?
Before Mary had even pulled into the driveway, she had pressed the button to get the garage door open. Once the car was safely inside, she closed the garage door behind her, cutting off the engine and lights and watching to make sure no one rolled underneath the closing door just before it hit the concrete floor.
“What a night.” She opened the garage door that led to her mudroom and finally her kitchen. Alabaster was up on the counter and let out a ferocious yawn/meow that made Mary laugh.
“You won’t believe the night I’ve had.” Mary walked up to the cat and picked him up in her arms. With a paw on each shoulder, Alabaster nuzzled her chin.
I’m hungry.
“Is that all I get? I almost got killed out there.”
Well, you’re here now, and I’d love to know all about it but let’s make it over dinner.
Mary’s stomach growled loudly in agreement with Alabaster.
“Fine.” She carried the fuzzy lump in her arms to the fridge and pulled out a couple eggs. “But you’re going to freak out when I tell you what I did.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
NOT A GOOD IDEA
NOT A GOOD IDEA
That was completely irresponsible of you, Alabaster scolded. What if something would have happened? They would never find even a hair on your head. If those guys want someone to disappear, that person disappears.
“I know.” Mary shook her head as she scrambled some eggs in a bowl and poured them into a hot, buttery skillet. “I didn’t think there would be any harm in just checking out Bruce’s place since the police confirmed he’d skipped town.”
It is against the law to go into someone else’s house without permission. I think Andrew just assumed you knew that. Is he coming over? Alabaster asked with perked up ears.
“No. Andrew isn’t coming over today.” Mary stirred the eggs, making them fluff up in the pan. “The worst part is that in addition to finding out these new things about Bruce, the Outlaw brought with him a dozen more questions. I feel like I’m back at square one.”
Maybe this is something you should tell Andrew. Call him and tell him to come over and that you have something you need to tell him.
“I’m not doing that,” Mary grouched at Alabaster. “You just want me to have him come over so you can be the center of attention. Do you know his legs fall asleep when you sit on his lap for hours on end?”
He loves me.
“He does. And so do I. But I’m not calling him. Besides, what do I really have but a bunch of circumstantial evidence? I don’t even think you can call what I have evidence of any kind.” Mary sat down with her eggs in front of her and a small plate of the same for Alabaster. “I’ve got to talk to that biker.”
WHAT?
“Yeah. I’ve got to strike up a conversation with him and see what he has to say about Bruce McGovern or Summer Moran for that matter.”
You can’t do that! Alabaster protested. The Outlaws are not normal people. They are criminals. And if they aren’t real criminals yet, they are working their way up to it. You might be just the thing a couple of those Prospects are looking for to impress their brothers-in-arms. You can’t just go up to them and start asking questions.
“They wouldn’t try anything if I just happened to stumble into them.”
Oh. I see. You’re just going to chat them up when they come in your store looking to replenish their supply of turquoise crystals and sterling silver spacers. Got it.
Mary looked at Alabaster and squinted.
“Everyone knows where they hang out.” Mary shook her head. “It’s a free country. I can go anywhere I please. Maybe I’d like to have a beer or play a game of pool or something. I’m allowed to go into any establishment I choose if I am a paying customer.”
I can’t believe we are even having this conversation. Alabaster stood and looked right at Mary. If you thought the atmosphere at the Little Dog Lounge was toxic, you aren’t going to be able to breathe on their actual turf. Bad attracts bad. You know this.
“We can do another protection spell.”
It will be like shooting a pea at a shark. The hairs on Alabaster’s neck were starting to rise up. The poison that surrounds that group goes deep. Not just into every cell on their bodies but into their souls. They’re twisted and jagged and if they get their talons in you, Mary, it will leave a permanent scar.
Mary put her fork down, no longer having much of an appetite.
You haven’t been an active witch for a while. You know why. Now, all of a sudden, you want to jump into something as if you’ve been casting spells and perfecting your craft for the past twenty years instead of keeping it wrapped up nice and pretty in sweet-smelling tissue paper at the far corner of the closet.
“There hasn’t been any need for witchcraft or sorcery for twenty years. But a woman was killed. Someone who I believe still had a long, happy life to live.” Mary stroked Alabaster’s fur gently but did not hear any purring. “Bruce McGovern would know something about why that biker was in his house. But he’s gone. So, the only other person to ask is the biker himself.”
How are you going to explain how you know he was even there?
Mary knew Alabaster was right. This was more than risky. It was a careless and dangerous venture that could end terribly. Sure, on paper she had the right to go anywhere but in reality, civilians were not allowed anywhere near The Outlaws’ clubhouse. She would stick out like a sore thumb if she decided to go to one of their bars and there was no guarantee she’d be allowed in.
What was the worst they would do? Tell her to hit the road perhaps with a few more expletives. She could survive that.
“I don’t know,” Mary finally said. “Maybe I should just sleep on it. See how the whole thing looks tomorrow.”
That did it. Alabaster’s motor began running again and he softened his look, positioned just inches from Mary’s face.
That is a good idea. I’m exhausted just talking about the whole plan. A good night’s sleep is just what we need. I always sleep better when Andrew is in the house. Maybe you should call him.
“I am not calling Andrew. You’ll have to just settle for me.”
Alabaster nudged Mary’s chin affectionately, then turned, hopped off the counter and slowly sauntered down the hallway toward Mary’s room.
As Mary cleaned the kitchen, she knew she’d go in the bedroom to find Alabaster curled up right smack in the middle of the bed as always. With Andrew, he slept around his head, giving him the freedom to stretch his legs and get comfortable. With Mary, he expected her to sleep around him. After so many years, she had grown accustomed to the little beast snuggling into the crook of her legs. But when he slept, he seemed to gain twenty-five pounds and was impossible to move.
The thought made her smile. It was something she was familiar with. She was used to Alabaster and her own bed and her own house. She was not used to discovering dead bodies and sneaking into abandoned homes and hiding underneath beds from gang members who would not have a problem causing her great physical harm.
Yet something was drawing her to this. She knew if she kept digging, she’d find what she was looking for.
“And what is that, exactly?” she whispered.
No answer popped into her head.
Sleep on it. That was the best idea and Alabaster was right. Tomorrow she’d see things in a new light.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
UNINVITED GUEST AT A PICNIC
UNINVITED GUEST AT A PICNIC
When Mary woke up the next morning to a flurry of finches chirping outside her bedroom window, she had momentarily forgotten about the question she was supposed to be sleeping on. Then it hit her with a rude and sarcastic good morning.
“Ugh,” she groaned.
Good morning. Alabaster hopped up on the bed and walked over Mary’s body to stare in her face. Time to get up.
“I’m up. I’m up.” She sat up and rubbed the feline behind his ears. “I feel like I was running a race in my dreams. I’m twice as tired now as I was when I went to bed.” She scratched her head.
Have you thought any more about your kooky plan to infiltrate The Outlaws?
“No.” Mary sighed. “I’m still where I was last night.” She yawned. “But I’m not going to just throw on my clothes and run out with tires screeching and the pedal to the metal to the first biker bar in town. I’ve still got a business to run.”
Yes. Alabaster quickly licked his paw. Maybe a change of scenery will do you good. I’d take a long walk after work. Get in touch with nature and see if that doesn’t help an alternative solution to surface.
The idea of a walk after work sounded delightful. Over coffee and toast with a little dry cat food, Mary promised Alabaster she wouldn’t do anything dangerous. While cleaning his leg with long strokes of his pink tongue, Alabaster agreed.
“I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.” John Muir said that. Alabaster continued his cleaning without so much as a sideways glance at Mary.
“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises this morning.” Mary flung the covers aside, covering her smart-alecky cat in the process, got out of bed, and headed toward the shower.
Again, she was surprised when she arrived at Beads and Baubles to find a handful of creative stragglers waiting for her to open the door. They greeted her with friendly smiles and good mornings and quick anecdotes that they had heard from a friend of a friend about this wonderful new bead shop.
Mary was thrilled to hear all of it and was even more thrilled by the sales she made all before ten o’clock. But still her mind was distracted and she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t just forget about Summer Moran, about Bruce McGovern and the whole connection with the Outlaws.
Just as she was about to shut the book on the matter, Grace appeared with two baguettes, a small crock of brie, and two gigantic Granny Smith apples.
“Make sure you are in before dark and lock all your doors tomorrow,” she said, breezing in and jerking her head toward the cozy chairs around the coffee table at the front of the store.
“What are you talking about?” Mary held up her hand and went behind her into a small alcove she had set up with a coffee pot on top of a mini-fridge. Pouring two cups of joe and grabbing a couple napkins, she joined her friend.
“You haven’t heard?” Grace took a napkin and tucked it into the collar of her beautiful silk giraffe spotted blouse and placed another over her impeccably tailored black slacks. “The new mayor managed to keep it a secret from the entire town. I’m telling you, these politicians are just rats.”
“What? Kept what a secret?”
“The Outlaws are planning a gathering at Piltcher Park next Saturday for what they call a reunion of sorts.”
Mary gasped. Could this be a sign? Of course, it was.
“How many of them will be there?” Mary suddenly saw the cloud to her silver lining. Wading through a sea of hardcore bikers looking for one in particular did not sound safe or even possible. What was she thinking?
“That depends. They’ve got chapters all over the place. I doubt it’s just the guys who skirt around the edges of town. These people sleep on the road so it isn’t like they are going to need hotels or running water.” Grace wrinkled her nose. “You know, I’m not a prude. I’ve been around the block. But I have a serious problem with people who can wear top-notch leather apparel, invest thousands in the noisiest form of transportation but won’t spring for a real home. That is a disease of the brain if I ever heard of one.” Grace tapped her temple.
“It is a chosen lifestyle, that is for sure.” Mary’s mind was racing as she took a bite of bread. Rolling her eyes for a moment, she forgot about her treacherous adventure and smacked her lips. “This bread is fantastic.”
“Henry just made them this morning.” Grace nodded. “Strange but the baguettes don’t sell as well as the Italian bread.”
“I’ll never understand people,” Mary joked, spreading more brie on he
r bread and topping it with a slice of apple.
“Andrew didn’t mention anything about it? From what Henry heard from Ted with Streets and Sanitation is that not only will the Port-O-Potties be out in full force but the police will be pulling a good bit of overtime as well as a couple neighboring departments chipping in.”
“Nope. Not a peep. Of course, why would he, right?” Mary shrugged her shoulders and took another big bite of bread. “He’d just assume I’d be here and then be at home. Where do I go except down the street to your house? How much trouble can I get into, right?”
“Your son doesn’t know us at all,” Grace teased.
“Thank goodness.” Mary raised her coffee mug to which Grace raised hers. They gently clinked them together and took a sip then laughed outright.
For a moment, Mary considered letting Grace in on her plan. Just another set of eyes, a witness, an accomplice might be beneficial. But Mary knew her friend too well to even go down that road. Grace would agree with Alabaster that it was a hopeless endeavor that offered more danger than anything else in search of a guy with an Outlaw biker vest and that not very unique tattoo on his arm. It was a needle in a haystack.
“Well, maybe we’ll be surprised. You know, they do have a lot of money,” Grace thought out loud for a moment. “As you said, they have to have some in order to live the way they do. This might be good for Morhollow. Is it really any different than when those hippy types who follow those bands around come for the spring concerts? They live out of tents and bathe when it rains, too.”
Grace continued to talk as Mary finished her bread and cheese. But Mary’s mind was quickly devising a plan that was an absolute shot in the dark but worth a try.