Someone Bad and Something Blue

by Miranda Parker

  “I knew you would call me, if Marshal West told you to,” Justus said with less sarcasm in his voice than I thought. He chuckled. “I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to call,” I said.

  “You haven’t been gone that long and I’m not a fool. You’re on a manhunt. You need to stay focused.”

  “Wow, I can’t believe you’re this understanding.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? You’re coming back home to Bella and me right?” he asked.

  “Of course, I am.” I smiled.

  “Then hurry up and save the world, brave Angel, because I want to kiss you badly.”

  “I promise to get back as soon as I can, if you promise me to stay away from your fawning church ladies fan club and that rat Detective Dixon.”

  Detective Francine Dixon was Salvador’s partner and had become a pain in my backside during Ava’s short stint at Dekalb County Jail. She had a thing for Justus and made it a point to rub her crush on my man in my face.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “I’m sure she’s been sniffing around your office, since she heard I was away.”

  He chuckled. “After all this time you’re still jealous of that woman.”

  “I’m not jealous of her, more like vigilant. She’s a wolf in designer suits. Don’t have her around my baby.”

  “Whatever you wish.” I could hear him laughing under his breath, but I didn’t care. I meant what I said.

  “I wish I were home,” I admitted and then noticed the detour signs for the Okefenokee Swamp.

  I continued driving past the detours.

  “I know you can’t tell me what’s going on at the manhunt, but I do want to know how you are doing.”

  “I’m good. I’m about to drive into a fire.”

  “I thought I knew all the current slang, but I don’t know what ‘drive into the fire’ means?”

  “It means exactly that I’m driving toward the Honey Prairie Fire in the swamp. Will call you later.” I hung up, and yes, Justus was screaming everything but Hallelujah on the other end.

  Sunday, 6:00 PM

  Honey Prairie Fire, Between Folkston and Okefenokee

  Swamp, South Georgia

  When Ava and I were young girls we learned about fire safety from Smokey the Bear and a bunch of afterschool television shows. One thing I remembered was that most fires were caused by careless people, who didn’t mean any harm. They just weren’t paying attention.

  However, one summer when Ava and I were ten and spent our vacation with Aunt Mary and Uncle Pete, we learned another truth. Sometimes folks set fires to set fires. On my second day of P.I. class I learned that most arsonists set fires to hurt someone, to tear something down, and to cover up another crime. In Uncle Pete’s case he tried to cover hurting Aunt Mary by starting a fire. I bet the quarter tank of gas in Ms. Claudine’s car that whoever was behind these fires were using it as a camouflage to hide the brew that needed to meet deadline before the Knocker came to collect.

  As I cut on Ms. Claudine’s fog lights and made my way farther down the darkest, dankest, smoggiest road I had ever seen, the puzzles to the pieces surrounding Sean’s death became clearer to me. Rosary’s family killed Sean to tear her back down. She was trying to clean up their very proud but black market way of life and she had the nerve to try to do it with a fed, well, a congresswoman’s aide.

  Because there wasn’t a cell phone tower in this area, I couldn’t use my GPS on my phone to locate Sanchez. So I had to rely on my gut, Sanchez’s last phone call, and years of stalking boyfriends in the dark. Uncle Pete’s gray truck peeked between the fog and smoke and then tucked back into the clouds just a few yards ahead. I slowed the car down and put on Bella’s swim goggles. They were in the bottom of my purse and a godsend.

  Although we weren’t near the evacuated area closest to the fire, the smoke was thick enough to burn my eyes and tickle my chest into rhythmic, dry coughs.

  I had a little trouble locking Claudine’s car door because it was dark, she didn’t have a remote key, and the buttons inside no longer worked. When I finally got it locked I noticed someone standing at a dirt road clearing in the woods to the east.

  “Sanchez?” I coughed.

  I’m sure she couldn’t hear me from this distance, but I could see her. I felt for my Kahr and began walking toward her. I wondered if JD and Ty were nearby.

  “Ma’am, I don’t want to shoot you and you don’t want to be dead.” A low and rich Southern man’s voice knocked me out of my skin for a second.

  I gasped and stopped. It was him. The Knocker. I had never been face to face with a hired killer, especially one whose work I had witnessed. Most of the men I picked up were tough, not sociopaths.

  Like in a trance I crossed the road and began to walk toward him. It was eerily quiet. All the LEs were everywhere but here, because he had designed it to be that way. Yet, I wasn’t entirely afraid of him. I knew he killed his only son. If my bullet didn’t kill him, telling him that fact definitely would.

  “I just came to get my friend, Bill,” I said.

  “Let me save you the trouble and money. I’ll throw what’s left of her in the fire when it arrives.”

  A shiver ran through my body. “Did you kill her?”

  “No, she killed herself. Someone should have told her that you don’t peek inside the worm. Those things can explode when the cap is off. Maybe she didn’t pay attention to your uncle’s notes.”

  I kept my knees from shaking. “Yep, that would do it.”

  He grinned. Even through the fog I could make him out, clearly. Biloxi “The Knocker” James held the accent of a country music legend. I’m sure he serenaded Giselle all her good years with it, too. And then there was the matter of his face. Biloxi James had a face that screamed beautiful enigma. Even in the moonlight his baby blue eyes were reminiscent of a cherub in an Italian Renaissance painting. How could he possess a stare that looked so innocent and yet have witnessed so much brutality at his hands? He was tall and statuesque. I had to crook my neck and slant my head to the side to get a good look at him, because the moon refused to leave the shimmering around his shadow. And there was his skin . . . it was so smooth. His cheeks held the color of a fleshy peach. It complemented his lips, which were plump enough to cause a kick in my left thigh. I noted all of that, as he walked toward me, as we stood off at both ends of a leafless oak grove arch. Bits of ash flew around us.

  “Biloxi, did anyone tell you that you were too pretty to be a stone-cold killer?” I asked.

  He smiled and flashed a handsome set of teeth for a man his age. “Even from this far away I can tell you’re a heartbreaker.”

  “Hmm . . .” I shrugged. “Too bad we’re meeting on the wrong terms.”

  “I know on good authority that me and you meeting, darling, ain’t never gon’ be on bad terms.” He stood as still as the old trees that flanked our showdown.

  It was so quiet that the winds didn’t whisper a mumbling word. I almost regretted meeting this devil on my own.

  “And where did you hear that from, the snitch in the U.S. Marshal’s office?” I asked.

  “You’ll learn soon enough.”

  “Enough of the riddles.” I shook my head. “You and Giselle are two peas in a pod.”

  He frowned. “What about Giselle?”

  “I saw her today and she is still protective of you. Why? I have no clue.”

  “Did she tell you she was dying?” His voice cracked.

  His eyes bounced when I mentioned her name, but he didn’t look away or bat an eye. But it didn’t matter. I found his weakness.

  “She told me something worse,” I said.

  “What could be worse?”

  “Why don’t you ask her after you kill me?”

  He chuckled. “Do you think I would be talking to you this long, if I were planning to kill you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know why you didn’t kill me at Ga
rden Ridge.”

  “Because I had done what I’d come to do. I don’t kill for the thrill.”

  I rolled my eyes at his sick rhyme. “So why did you kill innocent Terri.”

  “She got in my way. Foolish girl thought she could shield that Brown boy. But he wasn’t going anywhere. I apologize that she was a casualty in that.”

  I clinched my fists to fight it off. “How much do they pay you to torture and kill like that?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “You don’t charge family to do a favor.”

  I became nauseated from holding in what I knew. “Why did Sean have to be killed?”

  “That boy had been gunning for me since he was born. I didn’t know why until the county began to talk about putting a bill on the last election ballot to approve Sunday liquor sales in this county.” He spat on the ground.

  “Nothing suspicious there. The entire state has been dealing with Sunday alcohol sales.”

  “It didn’t stop. That Brown boy was making deals in Atlanta to push backdoor deals through, but we made sure it never made the ballot. Then the federals began peeking around here, searching for stills, IRS audits, and talk of zoning for another package store.”

  “You can’t put that on Sean.”

  “Oh, I got proof.”

  “The leak.” I nodded.

  “No, the girl. The mutt, Rosie. Her mom’s folks are good people, but the girl got her daddy’s blood in her. She couldn’t keep her mouth off the hooch and married men. After she got into some trouble that embarrassed her folks, they ran her off the mountain and into The City. It was no coincidence Sean took to her the way he did. He had Brown’s knack for seizing opportunities.”

  I scrunched my nose. “What kind of opportunity?”

  “The recipes. He got that poor girl convinced that he would clean her up and make a lady out of her, if she showed him how to make shine.” He scoffed. “She made a fool of him, just like she’s done everybody else.”

  I waved my hands in the air. “I’m confused. What does it matter if Chatham County had liquor sales on Sunday?”

  “Then what need would we be?” I whiffed smoke from the forest fire floating on a breeze coming from behind Bill’s back.

  “We’ve had stills here for generations and no one has bothered us before, because it was understood that this was what we do. On the weekends, after a long week’s work, we made white lightning and shared it with our family and friends.”

  “You do more than share. You sell it. Shoot. Y’all make over a million dollars a year slinging hooch.”

  “Angel, this stuff ain’t cheap to make.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t kill Sean Graham because he was competition.”

  “No, of course not. Rosie’s family is competition. This joker wanted to make shine legal. LEGAL. Destroy our whole industry. I couldn’t let that happen. I hope Giselle understands.” He lowered his head.

  “Where’s Rosary and Lucia?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. With that Brown boy gone she can’t do anything but run back home or live with her child’s father. If she knows who that is.”

  “Sean was Lucia’s father.”

  “Well, that’s a shame.”

  “And you will regret killing Sean.”

  “Angel, don’t test me.” His voice grew louder. “I killed Sean Graham because he had no home training and respect for what we do. He had hypnotized Rosie into thinking she was something she would never be and made a mockery of what moonshining is. You can’t make this legitimate, regulated, and measured by federals. That’s not our way of life. That’s not what we do. His family should have set him straight a long time ago.”

  “Maybe he’s stubborn like his father.” I clutched my mouth with my hand. I shouldn’t have said that.

  “Maybe, who’s to say?”

  “I can’t believe you’re this stupid.”

  Car lights began to appear through the fog.

  He turned around and observed the car then turned back to me and smiled. “Darlin’, I’m afraid our time is up.”

  “So you summoned someone to kill me. Is that what this is, because it won’t work. I’m taking you and whoever that is into custody.”

  “Darlin’, I assumed the marshal had a crush on you and that’s why he had you tag along. So let me tell you the truth. You’re good, but you’re not that good. So please stop reading my trigger finger. I might change my mind about killing you, although you’re quite pretty to tease.” He grinned.

  I wanted to slap the grin off his face. “I don’t want to kill you either unless you try to kill me first.”

  “Well, this is your lucky day,” he said.

  “And why is that?” I asked.

  “Because the same little birdie who told me you were here paid me to not kill you.”

  “What do you mean? You didn’t come here to kill me in the first place?”

  “No, sugar. I want to stand here in this burning swamp and count the breaths you take before you reach for that gun resting in the small of your back. Our little birdie told me you were a fast draw.”

  “Man, you do realize we’re in the twenty-first century and not in some cowboy Western standoff.”

  He scratched his jaw. “Well, then, how come it seems like it?”

  “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”

  “Because I needed you now . . .”

  The driver of the car had finally turned off the car and turned off the lights. My heart began to race. I didn’t want to die out here like this.

  “I need someone to witness my death.”

  I stepped back and frowned. “You want me to kill you?”

  “No, I want your boyfriend to think you killed me.”

  I heard footsteps coming toward me, but I couldn’t make out who it was without turning my eyes away from Bill. Then I heard a huge thump. From my periphery I knew it was a body. It took everything I had to not toss my last meal on my shoes. I prayed for Sanchez’s soul and for mine.

  “You want me to tell him that you’re dead? I’m confused.”

  “No.” He chuckled. “The poor dead guy on the floor is me and you will be you.”

  “You’re faking your death and you’re killing me, so that you can run off and live as an alias? It’s not going to stick, because the dental records will tell that you aren’t that dead man on the ground.”

  “That dead man doesn’t have any teeth and besides I’m not from here. My records aren’t in the state public records.” He grinned. “Pretty smart huh?”

  “Clever, but why do I have to die?”

  “Because you’re going to be the hero. You’re going to kill me, but die by my gunshot wounds. Your daughter will be set for life for your heroics.”

  “You need me, in order to fake your death. That’s why you lured me here.”

  “I didn’t lure you here. You’re nosy and you want to be the hero. Your uncle should have taught you that family was more important than ambition, but I guess you learned the opposite from that fool.”

  “It’s in the blood. We are what we are . . .”

  I still tried to see who was standing behind him, but couldn’t. Whoever was there intentionally hid their face from me. I began to wonder if this was our leak. The only thing I could do to find out was to stall their plot to kill me. I kept talking.

  “I just wish Sean knew that he was more like you than Giselle Brown.”

  Biloxi cocked his head. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard what I said. Sean Graham Brown was your son. I don’t understand why you never saw it, not even when you looked him in the eye and blew out the other one.”

  Biloxi’s eyes lit up. “You’re lying.”

  “Call Giselle and ask her. She’s at South Georgia Regional. Room 418. I checked her in before I came here searching for Sanchez.”

  “She never told me anything like that.”

  “Why should she tell you? You’ve become more criminal.
How many times did she bail you out of jail before Sean was born? Why do you think Sean spent so much time down here? I bet he even knew about you.”

  “That boy was nothing like me.” He growled.

  “Not entirely. He took care of his kid, even if being with his daughter’s mom was a problem.” I gasped. “I forgot. You don’t know that Lucia is your grandchild?”

  He no longer grinned.

  “Your son, who resembles you the more I think about it, wasn’t like you. He was trying to free his child from some foolish generational curse that you all continue to inflict on yourselves.” I paused once I noticed who was standing behind him. “While you’re trying to preserve what is overwhelmingly a lost way of life, he is trying to ensure the legacy of your family in a way that is not shameful.”

  “I remember when you were a little girl, hanging onto every word your father preached, but he is dead. He kept confusing this world with Heaven.”

  My blood pressure must have risen, because I felt a pop between my eyes. Then I heard the sound of grass crunching behind me.

  “Get down! Get down!” JD shouted. His voice came closer. “Get down, Angel!”

  But I couldn’t move. Biloxi’s grimace held me captive. He then pivoted to his left and shot something. Before I could take a breath my hands zipped around me and fired. Biloxi turned back to me. He stepped back, looked at the blood oozing from his chest, and fell face up.

  “Sh, not again . . .” I ran toward him.

  By the time I got to Bill he was coughing up spittle with blood. I grabbed him up and applied pressure to his wound. I didn’t care that his blood was spilling onto my white blouse.

  “Darlin’, I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me,” he said.

  I double-clicked my Bluetooth earpiece. “Dial. Fire.”

  I said that through my earpiece. I needed a medic and my Southern drawl had a bad way of messing up names on the computerized service, but “fire” never failed.

  “Don’t bother.” Biloxi grunted. “I’ll be gone before they get here.”

  “What were you shooting at?” I asked.

  “The marshal that has a crush on you.” He quaked.