Star-Spangled Rejects (The Heavenly Grille Café Book 3)

by J. T. Livingston

  Joe and Bernard were helping Doug by cleaning off the tables so that those customers waiting in the parking lot could quickly fill vacated seats. They were working side by side when Doug walked over to them. “I haven’t seen Jason since he left here earlier today—have either of you heard from him?”

  Joe shook his head. “Not me—sorry, Doug.”

  Bernard filled his tray with empty dishes and wiped the table clean. He looked over at Doug and asked, “Wasn’t he supposed to visit Skipper today?”

  Doug nodded. “Yes, that’s where he was headed when he left here. One of our regular customers—Mr. Zimmerman—offered to drop him off at the Detention Center, but I thought for sure he would be back here by now. It’s already dark outside.”

  Joe did his signature end-zone wiggle and grinned. “Maybe he had a date!”

  “Yes, that could be where he’s at,” Bernard agreed. “He and Miss Crennan seem to have hit it off with each other, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I thought of that,” Doug replied. He looked out the large front, glass window at the crowded parking lot. “He didn’t say anything about going over there tonight, though.” He shook his head and smiled. “I’m probably worrying over nothing. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  “Well, it’s only six-thirty,” Bernard returned Doug’s smile. “I’m sure that Jason will find some way to get a message to us if he doesn’t plan on returning to the café tonight.”

  Doug looked over at Bertie, who was standing by the kitchen door talking to Max. He knew that the two of them had probably heard his conversation with Joe and Bernard. He couldn’t quite decipher the expression on Bertie’s face, so he excused himself and moved swiftly toward the kitchen. “What?” he asked when he reached Bertie and Max.

  “I’m not sure,” Max’s smooth baritone whispered in reply. “Something is happening—right now—but, for some reason, I’m not getting a good reading on what it might be.”

  “Or who it might be happening to,” Bertie chimed in. “Since Jason isn’t here, I’m guessing it might involve him. You really haven’t heard anything from him since he visited Skipper this afternoon?”

  Doug shook his head. “Not a word.”

  The three angels bent their heads in a quick, silent prayer.

  “Amen…” Doug whispered.

  Ernest Blankenship parked his car in the driveway and entered the kitchen via the garage entry. The first thing he saw was Prissy, leaning on the kitchen counter, loading dishes into the dishwasher. “Prissy!” he spoke loudly.

  The old woman’s hearing wasn’t what it used to be, so she had not heard him drive up or enter the kitchen; but, his loud voice startled her so much that she dropped the china plate she had been holding between her bony fingers. The plate broke into a dozen pieces as it hit the hard, Italian white Carrara marble flooring. Her hand flew to her heart and she gasped. “Oh, sweet, Jesus! I didn’t hear you come in, Mr. Blankenship, sir. You done scared me to death, yes sir, you did…”

  Ernest stopped her as she started to get down on her knees to pick up the broken china. “I’m so sorry, Prissy. I never meant to scare you. Come on now, get up—leave that mess to me—I’ll take care of it. What I want to know is why you are out of bed? You promised me when I left this morning that you would rest today.”

  Prissy shook her head and held onto the arm he offered. “Yes, sir, but…”

  “I don’t want to hear any more about this, Prissy. I insist you go to your room, and I don’t want to see you lifting your hand to do anything until you’re feeling better and have your strength back. Elizabeth would never forgive me for letting something happen to you. Go on now, do as I say.”

  Prissy sighed and nodded. “I am a bit tired, yes I am. Okay, then,” she began moving slowly toward her room down the small hallway. “But you let me know if you need anything, Mr. B., okay?”

  Ernest pointed toward her room. “Go, Prissy—rest!”

  He waited until he heard her bedroom door shut before he took off his coat and hung it on one of the hooks beside the kitchen door. He rolled up the sleeves of his white, Maison Margiela shirt and walked back over to the kitchen sink. He was down on his knees, picking up large chunks of glass, when the kitchen door opened. He assumed it would, most likely, be Kirk coming home from whatever activity he had found to do since there was no school today. He tried, but failed, to hide his disappointment when he saw that it was his wife, Rae, coming in. He had not even noticed that her car wasn’t in the garage when he arrived home.

  Rae had been so sure that she would make it home from her afternoon tryst with her latest boy-toy, before her husband did, so she was more than a little surprised to find Ernest’s car in the driveway and him kneeling on the kitchen floor. She recognized the look of undisguised dismay on his face when he first saw her. “For goodness sake, Ernest! Whatever are you doing on your knees?”

  Ernest didn’t offer an immediate response; instead, he returned his attention to the broken glass.

  “That’s my good china!” Rae shrieked. “You broke my good china!” She moved quickly toward him.

  “Stay back, Rae!” he ordered. He knew he sounded gruffer than he intended to sound. “It can be replaced, don’t worry. It was accident.”

  Rae placed her hands on her hips and looked around the untidy kitchen. “Where’s Prissy? She’s slacking off again, isn’t she?” She removed her fur coat and let it drop to the floor. “I’m going to give her a good piece of my mind,” she threatened as she walked around her husband.

  Ernest stood up and dropped the broken glass into the trash receptacle. “Sit down, Rae,” he spoke more softly this time. “Prissy isn’t well. I told you this morning that she wasn’t feeling well and that she needed to rest.”

  Rae dropped into a chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “If she gets any more rest, she’ll be dead,” she murmured beneath her breath.

  Ernest pretended not to hear his wife’s retort about Prissy. “I didn’t see Kirk’s car. Do you know where he is?”

  Rae rolled her eyes and sighed. “He left a note for you in his room. Prissy put it there, on the kitchen table, but—no—I do not know where your son is today.” She grabbed the note and held it out toward her husband. “He’s almost 17 years old, and he doesn’t make any effort whatsoever to inform his wicked stepmother of his daily schedule.” She knew she was being too snippy with her husband and that she needed to do whatever was necessary to remain in his good graces; but, she had been unceremoniously dumped by the young, virile man she had spent the afternoon with, and she was not happy at having to find a suitable replacement for him.

  Ernest washed his hands and folded the dish rag neatly. It had been a long day, and he wasn’t in the mood to argue with his wife. He took the note from her and said, “A simple NO would have sufficed.”

  Rae sighed deeply and turned to walk up the back stairs that lead to their master suite and four other bedrooms. “I need a long bath.” She caressed his arm as she passed by him. “If you care to join me, I might consider forgiving you for breaking my good china.”

  Ernest didn’t respond. Instead, he sat down at the kitchen table and opened the sealed note his son had left for him. The note simply stated that Kirk would be staying with his friend David for the long weekend. Ernest lowered his head into his hands for a moment before taking out his cell phone. He wasn’t surprised when his son failed to answer his call, but he left a message for him anyway. “Hi, Kirk—it’s Dad. I got your note. I was hoping the two of us could have done something together this weekend. We haven’t been up to the lake house in years, and, well—I don’t know—I guess I just thought that maybe it was time we opened it up again. Okay, then—well, maybe another weekend. Stay safe this weekend, son. Call me if you need anything. I love you…”

  Rae stood at the top of stairs, eavesdropping on her husband’s call to his son. She tucked her thick, auburn hair behind her ears and thought, “Lake house? You’ve never mentioned a lake house—maybe I sho
uld check this out. It wouldn’t do for there to be any secrets between us, husband dear. After all, what’s yours will be all mine, in the end.”

  Cheryl retrieved two large pizza boxes from the back seat and made her way to the side door that led into her small, cozy kitchen. It was 7:15 and most of the lights were on in the kitchen and family room. She knew that Jason had planned on stopping by tonight to spend some time with Jimmy, and she hoped she wouldn’t be interfering with their time together. She had not expected to get off work as early as she did.

  She pushed open the kitchen door and yelled out, “Jimmy! I’m home, and I have food!” The first thing she noticed was how quiet the house seemed—not at all what she had expected. “Jimmy?”

  She heard the flushing sound of the toilet from down the hall and turned to see Jason coming toward her. “Jason—hi! I was hoping you would make it tonight. Listen, it’s still so cold outside, so if you want to bunk down on the sofa again tonight, it will be fine…” She stopped when she suddenly realized that the two of them were alone in the house. If her son had been here, there would definitely have been more noise in the house. “Where’s Jimmy?” She shivered involuntarily.

  “Hello to you, too,” Jason smiled. “Sorry, I needed to use your facilities, and nobody was here when I arrived.”

  “Jimmy wasn’t here?”

  “No,” Jason shook his head. “The back door was unlocked when I got here, and the lights were on in the kitchen and living room. I didn’t look at it,” he pointed to the note on the table, “But, it looks like he might have left you a note. Maybe he had an errand to run. I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in?”

  “No, of course not.” Cheryl pulled back the kitchen chair and gasped when Jimmy’s cell phone clattered to the floor. “That’s his phone,” she said, a perplexed expression filling her face. “He never goes anywhere without that phone. It’s usually attached to his ear.” She inserted the ear piece into her own ear. Mo Pitney’s song, ‘Let Me Tell You About Country’ was playing. She sat down at the table and read the note her son had left for her.

  Jason watched while the blood seemed to slowly drain from Cheryl’s ruddy cheeks. “What’s the matter, Cheryl? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Cheryl held out the note for him, but was unable to speak.

  “Okay, now you’re scaring me,” Jason said as he took the note and read it. “I don’t get it. What’s wrong? He says he’s hanging out with his friends for the weekend. Is this something out of the norm for him?”

  Cheryl released a long breath and shook her head. “He doesn’t really have any friends that he would want to spend the entire weekend with, and, besides—he knew that you might be coming over tonight. He was so excited for the two of you to have some alone time together.”

  “That’s okay, we can do it another time.” Jason was still confused as to why this information would appear to be so upsetting to her. “It’s no big deal, really.”

  Cheryl was shaking her head. A single tear finally broke free and eased slowly down her cheek. “You don’t understand, Jason. Something is wrong—something is terribly, terribly wrong.”

  Jason stood behind her, helpless to understand what she was talking about. He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward. “No, I don’t understand. Please…tell me what’s wrong.”

  Cheryl pointed at the XOXOXXX that took the place of her son’s signature. “It’s that.”

  “Doesn’t that mean something like hugs and kisses?” Jason’s grip on her shoulders loosened a little.

  Cheryl shook her head. “No…not for us, it doesn’t. It’s a code, Jason—a code that Jimmy and I concocted a few years ago. The three Xs at the end—that’s the secret code we agreed upon—a code to let the other one know that something was wrong—that the other one of us needed help.”

  She held out the cell phone. “The code would have been enough, but he left his cell phone—what teenager goes anywhere without his or her cell phone. It was sort of hidden on the seat of this chair—the chair was pushed under the table.” She looked up at Jason and trembled. “He would NEVER go anywhere without this phone.”

  “Damn,” Jason responded, almost to himself. He forgot all about the need to call Officer O’Brady and provide the information regarding Stella’s whereabouts. He flopped down in the chair next to Cheryl and stared into her desperate, pleading eyes. “Damn…”

  CHAPTER 23

  Settling In

  The first thing that Jimmy noticed when they pulled around to the back of the house, was that there were lights were on in the basement. He wondered—hoped— if someone else might be there, or if Kirk was throwing one of his infamous parties. There were no other cars at the house, but it was still fairly early for a party to begin. Nobody offered him any explanations as to why they were at the house—nor, did he bother to ask.

  Jimmy had remained quiet and did everything he was ordered to do; he helped unload a large amount of food, mostly snacks, from the Land Cruiser. He helped load the cabinets and refrigerator with enough snacks to last at least a couple of weeks; the volume of food and toiletries gave Jimmy more reason for concern that this might be more than just a weekend getaway for the three friends.

  It was almost eight-thirty by the time Kirk locked the Land Cruiser and told everyone to get inside. The night sky was clear, full of stars and a full moon, but the temperature had begun to drop noticeably by seven-thirty, and Jimmy’s thin jacket did little-to-nothing to keep him warm. He stood by one of the lit fireplaces and rubbed his hands together.

  “What’s the matter, little boy?” Michael giggled. “You’re not cold are you? ‘Cause we wouldn’t want you to freeze to death…at least, not just yet.” He giggled again, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and flopped down on one of the luxurious, leather sofas. “You may as well take a load off, kid—you’re going to be here for a while.”

  Jimmy looked back and forth among the three older boys. “Is this about what happened to that homeless man? If it is, I told all of you that I wouldn’t say anything—and, I haven’t.”

  “Not even to your pretty mama?” Kirk sneered. “Please tell me that you have, so that I’ll have a good excuse to go snatch her, too.”

  “My mom doesn’t know anything about what happened that night,” Jimmy’s voice dropped to almost a whisper.

  “What’s that? Speak up, pretty boy—I’m not sure Kirk heard you,” Michael grinned and propped both feet up on the heavy, wooden coffee table.

  Jimmy cast a quick glance at David, who had not spoken a single word since they left the Crennan cottage.

  David was quick to look away, but not quick enough for Kirk not to notice.

  “What are you looking at David for?” he asked in a low growl. “What? Do you think he’s going to help you get out of this? Well, he’s not. We’re all in this together.” Kirk turned his back to all of them and stared out of the massive sliding glass door, into the black night. The water from the lake shimmered beneath the moonlight, and Kirk allowed an old memory of his mom—standing at this very door, looking out at that very lake under the moonlight—to interrupt his thoughts for a quick moment. He turned slowly back around and glared at David. “Isn’t that right, David?”

  David held Kirk’s glare. “I told you that we were all in this together, and that we would have your back, no matter what you decided to do to them.”

  Jimmy’s head snapped around. “Them? You’ve got me—I told you to leave my mom out of this!”

  Michael jumped up from the sofa and ordered, “Get over here, Crennan, and sit down and shut up.”

  “You said them,” he stared at David. “Who did you mean?”

  Kirk walked slowly toward Jimmy. “Do as Michael said—sit down and shut up. Relax, it’s not your precious mommy David was talking about.” He nodded at David and said, “You may as well bring her out; with any luck, maybe she had a heart attack and died while we were gone.”

  Jimmy sat down on the sofa n
ext to Michael. His brain was doing double-time trying to figure out who else might be in the house with them. He watched David make his way to a closed door in the far corner of the room. He had not noticed the door before, but now he saw the dim light coming from beneath it.

  David entered the master suite and closed the door behind him.

  “Who’s in there?” Jimmy asked. “Who else have you dragged into this mess?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a mess,” Kirk grinned. “But, we do have all the major participants here now. I’m sure you’ll recognize the rest of our little party when you see her, Crennan.”

  Jimmy heard something heavy being dragged across the floor and jerked his head back toward the room that David had entered. He stood up from the couch, but Michael pushed him back down.

  “Nobody said that you could get up, Crennan,” Michael giggled. He shrugged when Kirk gave him the evil eye. “What? There’s nothing wrong in having a little fun, is there? You’re way too serious these days, Kirkie.”

  Kirk shook his head and pointed his finger at Michael. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

  “Oops—my bad!” Michael whispered, holding his index finger to his puckered lips. “I forgot—that was your mama’s nickname for you—sorry, man.”

  Jimmy was straining his neck to see over the high-back sofa, but it only took him a few seconds to recognize Stella when she walked into the light.

  David cupped the old woman’s elbow, to assist her into the main room.

  “Don’t touch me!” Stella growled in her shrill, raspy voice. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

  David released her elbow but stayed a couple of steps behind her, close enough to catch her if she fell.