Chapter Eighteen
It was seventeen minutes to eight o’clock, and I sat in a window booth in Della’s Café, trying to appear composed and calm when I was anything but.
Patrons dribbled in to grab a sandwich and a coffee and leave again, but other than that, the café was quiet. There was no sign of Jackson. Or Vail, either. I checked my cell for a message from him. Nothing. Damn. I had no way of knowing whether he’d received my message.
Where were the police when they were needed?
I should have arranged the meet at the local doughnut shop.
The waitress walked over to me, order pad and pencil in hand. “What’ll it be, sugar?”
I read her name tag. “Just coffee, Daisy. Thanks.” I was getting pretty good at this social stuff. Given half a chance, I’d become better. Diplomacy would come later, I was sure.
When she left, my thoughts ran back to last week and Amy’s accident and what all had transpired as a result. It was remarkable how one incident led me here.
I looked through the window onto the street, then to the Freedom PD and the darkness beyond. The evening seemed like any other. The moon shone brightly. Buses transported workers to their homes. Men and women dressed in tailored suits and carrying expensive attaché cases wandered in and out of the police department. Lawyers, perhaps or business people, paying fines and tickets.
Occasionally, a car drove past. None I recognized.
No one loitered that I could see. I wanted to know Vail was out there looking out for me and watching for Jackson and ready to apprehend him when he surfaced.
Daisy brought my coffee with fresh cream.
“Thanks.”
“Enjoy.”
I dumped both tubs of cream in the coffee, added two teaspoons of sugar and stirred, keeping a vigil on the parking lot in my peripheral vision. Still, no Jackson. The wall clock read seven fifty-eight. Maybe he was a no-show. Or maybe he was here, sensed a set-up and ran. He wasn’t a stupid man.
There was something I was missing. I experienced this feeling before and like then, couldn’t determine what the errant piece was. The entire memory of Saturday night might never surface in my mind. Father Francis had given me his word nothing untoward had happened to me, and that I hadn’t behaved inappropriately. If I couldn’t believe a priest, who could I believe?
Jackson surprised me by entering the café through an entrance at my back. He sat across from me without any noise whatsoever. He was dressed casual – jeans, T- shirt and tan suede bomber jacket – and brought with him the scent of autumn.
I smiled.
He grabbed my hands in his and squeezed. “I couldn’t believe it when you called,” he said.
At the sound of his voice, my arms broke out in goose flesh. Before I could say anything, he fired questions at me.
“Why did you run from me last night? Where have you been? Did you get my messages? Why didn’t you answer my calls? My God, I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Jackson, what happened at your camp Saturday night?”
“You still can’t remember?”
“Not everything. I’m hoping you can help me.” I took a sip of coffee to appear composed. Beneath the table, my knees shook like they had while I’d waited for Vail to interrogate me. This time, I wouldn’t let fear deter me.
“Start talking, Jackson.” I gave him a stern look. It worked on Baby when I left him with Mabel. Maybe I’d get lucky twice tonight.
He stared at the table a second, then turned his gray-blue eyes on me. “Do you remember a tall, slender twenty-ish ponytail-wearing man from the cabin?”
I searched my mind and came up empty. “No. Who is he?”
“That’s it. No one knows. Only we didn’t know it till later. At the time, we each thought he was a friend of one of us.”
“Thomas or Wight aren’t speaking,” I said.
“Exactly.”
That took a moment to make sense to me. “You think flagpole was into some nefarious scheme with Thomas and Wight, he followed them to the cabin, things didn’t go his way and snuffed them.”
“It looks that way.”
“We’re all at risk, then. We’ve all seen him. I can’t remember him, but he doesn’t know that.” I was on the verge of another panic attack.
“Don’t panic,” he said.
How could he tell me not to panic? Wait. Something wasn’t right. Why wasn’t he concerned? If a killer was after him, he should be frightened.
He signalled to Daisy. “Coffee, please?”
A few seconds later, she stood at our booth, coffee pot in one hand and a cup and saucer in the other.
Jackson moved his hands to his lap while she poured his coffee and refilled mine.
“Thanks,” he said when she finished.
“If you need anything else, holler,” she said before walking back behind the counter.
“Why didn’t you simply tell the police the truth?” I asked.
“I didn’t add everything up right away.”
“Vail suspects you.”
Jackson nodded. “My card was found in Wight’s car.”
“You were friends, and he was your lawyer. It’s not unusual he would have your business card.”
“With his time of death and location on the back written in my handwriting?”
“What?”
Jackson took a deep breath and exhaled. “Yesterday, I’d opened my shop to accommodate a customer. Wight apparently saw my car out front and came in wanting to talk to me. He seemed agitated, but I couldn’t talk, not with the customer in the store. Without thinking anything about it, I took a business card and wrote that I’d meet him at the Oyster Shell at six-thirty.”
“That’s where his body was found,” I said.
“Yep.”
“He had your card on him and from that the police...Vail deduced you set up Wight to get killed, or killed him yourself. You need to go to the police. Honesty is the best policy.”
Jackson’s eyes crinkled at the corners, then he burst into laughter.
I realized what I’d said. “How lame was that?”
“On a scale of one to ten – a twelve.”
“Thanks.” My face flamed. I couldn’t remember the last time I blushed.
“You’re adorable.” He took my hands in his. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” I did and truthfully, I’d wanted to believe him all along.
“I want a future with you, Josie. Tell me you want it, too.”
“I do. I really do.” I hadn’t been this happy in...I couldn’t remember when. I grabbed my bag. “Let’s go to the police.”
He reached out and grasped my arm, holding me back. “No,” he said.
“No?” My heart dipped, and my knees weakened. I was such a loser. And a fool. If it seems too good to be true, chances are...
“I’ve already been there. Vail has my statement and knows what we know. I gave him a description of flagpole.”
I let out a huge sigh of relief. “So, it’s only a matter of time before the police make an arrest?”
“If there’s any justice at all.”
I looked up when a man entered the café. It took me a moment to recognize him. I yanked my hands from Jackson’s and leaned my back against the booth.
Vail strolled over to us, all happy like. He was here to arrest Jackson. The truth pulsed through me like an electric current. Josie, the loser. Loser. Loser. Loser.
“What’s the matter?” Jackson asked.
Just as I’d figured, Jackson had been lying. Oh sure, make fun of the wall flower. This little piggy went to market. Suey, suey, suey. Those snippy little voices of my classmates rang mercilessly in my mind.
Vail threw a Polaroid picture on the table in front of Jackson. “Recognize this guy?”
Jackson picked up the photo and studied it. “That’s him.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Flagpole,” Jackson said.
“Where is he? Do you have him
in custody?” I looked at Vail, crossing my fingers.
“He’s a temporary guest of the city. He’s in the morgue. A couple of fishermen fished him from the pier earlier tonight.” Vail took the picture and put it in the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He sat next to me.
Jackson ordered him a coffee.
“Who is he?” I asked.
“Trevor Robert Duncan with a history the length of Main. B&Es, possession, DUIs, you name the crime, this guy’s done it. Any idea what Hayes and Allaby were into?” Vail directed the question to Jackson.
“None.”
Vail eyed him. “You’re not holding back on me again, are you?”
Jackson shrugged. “Wight had a gambling problem years back, but he’d gotten the better of the addiction. As for Thomas, I always considered him a straight shooter. Obviously, I was wrong.”
I believed him.
Daisy brought Vail a cup of coffee and offered to refill mine.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
Jackson placed his hand over his cup. “I’m good, too.”
I waited until she was out of hearing range to ask Vail if we were in danger.
“Are you involved in what Hayes and Allaby were?”
“No.” I spoke for Jackson and myself.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
“You’ve uncovered something, haven’t you?” I doubted he would tell us anything. We, like everyone else, would have to hear the story in the news or read about it in the newspaper. I wondered who Vail gave his exclusives to, if he did. The Freedom Times & Transcript wasn’t the only paper in town.
Vail took a gulp of coffee, set the mug down and stood. “Good night, folks.”
Jackson turned and watched Vail leave.
“Do you believe him?” I asked.
He turned and faced me. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
I shook my head. “None I can think of.” I still had unasked questions and now was as good a time as any to get answers. “Jackson, why did I have dried blood on my hands Sunday morning?”
He lifted the cuff of his jacket and showed me the Band-Aid. “I hit my wrist against a nail and ripped the flesh. The gash bled like a river. You tended to me, even kissed the booboo.”
“I did?”
“You can ask Father Francis.”
I blushed again. “It won’t be necessary. How’d I get home?”
“I called Trish.”
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t have been able to ride on the back of the bike.”
“I was that drunk?”
“You had a few beer.”
“But not enough to get sloshed.” I knew what Jackson was afraid to tell me. “You think someone slipped me a drug, don’t you?”
He brought his eyebrows together. “I thought you were drugged. Now that I know what I do, I’d say it was the guy who killed Thomas and Wight. No one else in the camp that night would have. I can vouch for each one of them.”
“Why would he drug me?”
“Kicks, probably. The guy was scum.”
“Or maybe he mistook me for a stripper or prostitute.” The evening could have ended on a worse note. I was thankful Jackson had looked out for me. “One more question. At dinner last night, what was that call really about?” At his furrowed brow, I said, “I checked your phone when you went for a tissue.”
“A client looking for a Louis XV armoire, like I said. Trish called to inquire for him. Satisfied?”
I’d assumed it was the customer calling. Another misunderstanding. “One more question. Sunday morning, I saw you with Trish. You were driving past the Cathedral. What were the two of you up to then?”
“Looking for you. When you didn’t come back to your sister’s apartment, Trish got worried and called me.”
“How’d Vail know where to find me?”
Jackson looked sheepish. “I’m afraid I told him. He has a way with an interrogation.”
“Unorthodox, isn’t he?”
Jackson took my hand. “Where were we?”
I leaned across the table. “You were about to kiss me.”
“How could I forget?”
He touched his lips to mine, softly at first, then he deepened the kiss.
We both heard Daisy clearing her throat and broke apart, grinning.
Jackson never took his gaze from my mouth. “What do you say we take this elsewhere?”
“Great idea,” I said, then remembered his living arrangements. “Please tell me you don’t live with your mother.”
“How’d you know – ”
“I looked at the mail on the desk.”
Jackson threw back his head and laughed. “I don’t live with my mother. It was a roof over my head while my condo underwent renovations.” He dangled a key in my face. “Care to check out the finished product?”
“An offer I cannot refuse.” Thrice lucky.
THE END
An Equal Measure Page 25