by Jude Pittman
“By his friend, you mean Sam?”
“That’s who I thought it was, but it turned out that it wasn’t for Sam at all, it was for this biker friend that he brought along.” Dr. Morgan slapped the table. “This idiot didn’t want advice about his horse. He wanted me to write him a prescription for Oxycontin, which he claimed he needed for the horse. I told him I didn’t take private clients and he should get his ass to a proper veterinarian with his horse, and then I told Sam not to bother me with any more of his bullshit ideas. That was the last I saw of any of them.”
Gillian frowned. “It looks like Angelina must have been mistaken. She was sure that you and the boys were discussing watching someone make a video that showed several old guys ‘getting it on’ with young chicks. She couldn’t remember the name of the place, but she thought she heard all of you discussing a nightclub where you could find a lot more of that action.”
Dr. Morgan’s eyes flashed. “I do not know what those young men were doing after I went back to tending the horses, but I certainly was not involved in any lurid discussion with those morons and I know nothing about a nightclub.”
Dr. Morgan shook his head and huffed out a breath. “I don’t mean to be unkind, but it sounds like the bump on that young woman’s head has screwed up more than her memory functions.”
Gillian nodded. “The doctors said it may be weeks—or never—before her full memory returns. But you didn’t overhear any of this supposed conversation Angelina is talking about. I wouldn’t keep on about it, but if we could identify the nightclub Angelina believes they were talking about it might give us a lead to Larry’s killer.”
“I’m afraid not. I was worried about one of the horses and I wasn’t thinking about the stable boys’ conversations. I don’t usually listen to them anyhow. They talk the same crap, all ignorant youth talk. I can’t even say what they were talking about when I arrived. I didn’t pay attention. All I can say is that when I was with them, they talked about horses and getting some drugs to treat some mythical horse and nothing more. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to finish up here because I’ve several patients to see today and already I’m behind schedule.”
“Of course, Dr. Morgan.” Gillian stood up and offered her hand. “Please don’t take offense at these questions. We all just want to clear this up and get back to our normal lives again.”
“Understood. Why don’t you ask this Sam some of these questions? Sounds to me like he’s the one you want to be talking to.”
“That’s true. Unfortunately no one has been able to find him since the murder. To tell you the truth the police think he’s the killer.”
“They do.” The vet shook his head and rose to leave. “He’s stupid enough, but I can’t say I had pegged him as a murderer. Well, better go take another look at that bay, she’s been off her feed for a week—which, as you mentioned, could be related to all the turmoil going on around here. Let’s hope it settles down soon.”
The vet left to take care of the horse and Gillian returned to the house where she sat down at her desk, took out a notepad and proceeded to write up a summary of the information she’d learned today so that she could turn it over to Kelly.
* * *
Kelly left the prison. On the highway, he called Gus.
“It’s all set. Ajax is in. If you set your stuff in motion right away, he could be home by morning. Maybe we’ll tie this thing up over the weekend.”
“Sure as hell make my life easier. The media’s having a field day—two college students dead and no suspect. It’s an election year and not the kind of stuff the sheriff wants to see on the evening news.”
“Of course it’s all your fault.”
“You got it. Can you make the White Bull for lunch?”
“My mouth’s watering. See you there.”
* * *
The White Bull on 28th Street had been one of Gus and Kelly's pit stops back in the days when they were a team. Kelly got a rush of memory every time he entered the brightly lit café with the 50s style décor and lip-smacking aromas emanating from the kitchen. Texas favorites like chicken-fried steak, biscuits and gravy, honest to God Texas chili without beans, and brisket so tender it made a knife redundant.
Inside Kelly strolled to the back of the Café, and sliding across the cracked red plastic of the same old booth he and Gus have always chosen, he signaled the waitress for coffee.
“Gus’ll be along in a minute. Mind filling me up and coming back for his. You know how he likes it, hot enough to burn the lips off anyone else.”
“I got you covered.” Margaret had been running the lunch crowd at the White Bull for as long as Kelly could remember, and if she didn’t know a person's preferences then they definitely weren’t a regular.
"Like old times," Gus slid in across from Kelly and held up his cup for Margaret, who’d seen him enter and followed him down the aisle.
“The usual?” she asked them both.
“Good here,” Gus said, “You?”
“I’ll take a bowl of that chili. Gillian’s grilling tonight so better go light for lunch.”
After they’d both had a couple of sips, Kelly put down his cup and brought Gus up to date on his conversation with Ajax.
“Do you think he was on the level about not knowing who might be involved with Sam?”
“He probably didn’t know then, but he’ll damn well know everything within an hour of getting back on the outside. That’s why I’d like to have the clubhouse staked out, as well as Texas B’s. I’m not sure where he’ll go first, but I’m damn certain one of those locations is a best bet.”
“So will it make it better or worse that once you gave me the word I set the wheels in motion. They’re processing him while we’re having lunch, and if all goes as planned he’ll be out before dinner.”
“Plays hell with my barbecue plans.” Kelly chuckled and waved his hand to indicate that he was joking. “I’ll call Gillian. You want me to hang out at Texas B’s? My cover’s good there. I’ll get in on a few pool games and keep my ears open. Fred still considers himself in my debt. He knows I’m looking for Ajax—for personal reasons. He’ll give me a sign if anything starts to go down.”
“Good. I’ll leave a unit in the area, just in case you need backup, and take the rest out to Rhome. You get an alert you get me on my cell. We don’t know what we’re up against—or how many are involved. Don’t take chances.”
“Got you. I won’t.
The men finished their lunch, and then left separately. Kelly headed for Lake Country, to explain the change in plans to Gillian, and Gus returned to the Station where he would set in motion a full scale stakeout of the Texas Brothers clubhouse in Rhome.
* * *
Kelly counted ten bikes in front of Texas B’s when he pulled Old Blue around back and backed the truck in alongside Fred’s Marquis.
That ought to keep my fenders safe. He locked the truck and headed around to the front of the building.
Inside, Bob Seger’s acoustic mourned the loss of youth and self as he raced ‘Against the Wind’. A group of men, some Kelly recognized, some he didn’t, gathered around the pool table and watched Gene Robins clear the table in a single round.
“Anybody else with money to burn?” The tall hawk-faced biker lifted his head to scan the audience, and stopped when his eyes lit on Kelly.
“Jake Perkins. What the hell are you doing back in town? I thought you’d cleared out of Texas for good.”
Kelly grinned, approached the table and stuck out his hand. “Still fleecing the faithful I see.”
“Fools and their money.” Gene hailed the bartender. “What’ll you have?” he asked, taking a seat at a booth facing the pool tables and inviting Kelly to slide in across.
“So what you been up to these past seven years?” Kelly jumped in first with the questions in hopes of deflecting the attention off of himself.
“Hell, you been gone that long?” Gene shook his head at the idea that many years had passed.
“Seven years last month. So what’s gone on with you in that time?”
“Keeping my nose clean. Got my certification five years back, been with City Electric since that time. Donna and I made it legal after the second boy came along.”
“So you’ve got two boys?”
“Actually we’ve got two boys and a girl. Little princess.” Gene grinned and Kelly liked the proud papa look on his face.
“You still ride?”
“Not much. Family keeps me pretty busy. I come down here maybe once or twice a month, play some pool and touch base with the Brothers, but I’m not active anymore. What about you? Must have been something pretty drastic the way you disappeared. Wasn’t the cops was it?”
“No nothing like that. Personal stuff. Lost someone who mattered. Decided I was getting too old for the lifestyle. Got an opportunity to go digging for gold and decided it was one hell of a good excuse to drop out.”
“No shit. Did you find any?”
“Enough to buy myself a place off the beaten track, and not have the man breathing down my neck.”
“Can’t ask for more than that. Wonder what’s going on over there?”
They turned towards the front door where a crowd had gathered, blocking the way of a newcomer trying to enter.
“Hey, give a man room,” Ajax’s unmistakable roar cleared the entrance as men stepped back to let the giant into the room.
The big man’s eyes scanned the room, rested momentarily on Kelly, and then moved away.
“The shit’ll hit the fan now,” Gene commented.
“How’s that?”
“You haven’t been around for a while, so you probably don’t know about the unrest that’s been brewing in the club. Ajax, he and Tragg and Dixie, and several of the old guard, they’re trying to run the club along the same lines it’s always run. It ain’t lily white, mind you, but there’s no hard drugs, no serious illegals, nothing more than petty shit—hot car parts—that kind of stuff. All that changed when Ajax went down. I thought he had another year but they must have spring him early.”
“I heard he was inside, but didn’t know any details.”
“Well, scuttlebutt is that someone inside the club set him up. It’s a real sore spot. Touchy as hell and now that Ajax is on the outside again, things are probably going to blow wide open. There’s a bunch of young blood been recruited over the past few years. They’ve got their own ideas about how the club should be doing business, and I can tell you, some of those ideas are going to come in over Ajax and Tragg’s dead bodies.”
“Tragg still the Pres?”
“Yep for now. But that’s another thing. I heard rumors that a surprise election was being planned, and apparently Tragg hadn’t been invited.”
Kelly watched as Ajax and the small entourage that surrounded him moved to the back of the room and gathered into a tight circle.
“Whoa.” He turned back to Gene. “Sounds like a full scale revolution.”
“Very damn likely. Anyway, time for me to head back to the house. I’m getting too old for this stuff. How about you? Need a ride?”
“I’m parked out back. I figure I’d better say hi to Ajax, then I’ll follow your lead. The atmosphere in here is pretty thick all right.”
“Good seeing you Jake.” Gene shook his hand and headed for the door. Kelly sauntered over to the bar and caught Fred’s eye.
“Seems a bit tense in here,” Kelly observed when Fred moved down the bar to stand beside him.
“I’ll be honest, Jake. I owe you one, so here’s the payback. Why don’t you take it in mind to head on out and get yourself a bite to eat. Nothing good on the menu here tonight.”
Kelly grinned. “Thanks Fred. He reached out to shake the bartender’s hand. "Nice talking to you. I’ll probably be back in a day or two.”
Fred nodded. “I’ll look for you.”
Moving quietly, keeping away from the far side of the room and the ever-growing crowd gathering around Ajax, Kelly let himself out the front door.
Back at Old Blue, he pulled out his cell and pressed the button for Gus.
“Something’s going down right now,” Kelly said. “Fred, the barkeep I told you about gave me a warning and suggested I get the hell out of there. You might want to be heading back into town—and don’t spare the sirens. I’ll pull around the block and wait. Don’t dawdle.”
“Dawdle my ass. We’ll be there in twenty.”
The phone went dead and Kelly started the engine.
He’d started to back out when the sharp crack of a gunshot had him slamming the brakes and reversing direction.
“Sons of bitches better not have killed Ajax.”
Chapter Eight
Inside, chaos reigned. Bikers dove for cover and Fred crouched behind the bar with a shotgun clutched in his hands. Glass from the shattered lights covered the floor. The room’s only illumination came from the shadowy reflections cast by a pair of Budweiser signs hanging on the wall.
Kelly slid around the door and flattened himself against the wall, ready to drop if he spotted the shooter. Minutes passed broken only by the rustling of fidgeting bodies and the sounds of heavy breathing.
“What the hell?” he spoke to the room. “Some of you must have lighters. How ‘bout striking them?” More rustling, and then the sound of Zippos flicking until dozens of tiny flames glowed and the shadows receded.
“Who’s that?” Fred yelled, holding his lighter high and pointing towards a biker spread out on the floor.
“Ajax?” Kelly shouted.
“Over here,” the big man called back from the far side of the room.
“Hang on, I’m getting the candles.” Fred pulled a box of fat white candles stuck in bottles out from under the bar and used his lighter to get them going.
“Jake, you want to take a look?”
Kelly crossed the room and crouched beside the fallen man. “You okay?” He grasped the biker’s shoulder, shook him firmly, and when he didn’t get a response yanked his arm and flipped him over.
“Call the cops,” he spoke aloud to Fred.
Within minutes the pounding of heavy boots broke the silence. Bikers didn’t like cops, and nothing scattered them faster than hearing that the law was on its way. Kelly wandered across the room and stopped beside Ajax. “Know him?” he asked.
“Doug something. Called himself the Enforcer. Mean punk.”
Kelly glanced around to make sure they weren’t being watched.
“Think he might be our guy?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. I need to get out of here.”
“No, you stick. If they pull you in I’ll take care of it. I need to get out of here before they arrive, one of them might recognize me from the meetings I’ve been having with Detective Graham. I don’t want to get tagged. As far as they know you’re a newly released inmate stopping in the bar for a couple of cold ones. As soon as I’m loose I’ll get in touch with Gus and let him know you’re on site. He’ll see that you’re not held. Now go square things with Fred. Tell him you’re going to stick around to talk to the cops. He’ll appreciate that.”
“Shit.”
“Keep your eyes and ears open. This guy could be the one we’re after or this whole thing could be completely unrelated.”
Ajax started across the room and Kelly slid out the back door. The last thing he needed was one of his former cop buddies recognizing him and outing his identity.
Back in his truck Kelly squealed out of the parking lot, signaled the patrol car Gus had posted down the block and headed up Belknap. After putting a couple miles between Old Blue and the bar, he pulled over to the curb and took out his cell phone.
“All hell’s broken loose at Texas B’s,” he said when Gus answered the call.
“Yeah. Heard it on the scanner. Johnson let me know you’d cleared out. I told him to hang back until we get there. We’re headed into town now. Looks like you picked the right target.”
“Not sure if the dead g
uy’s the one we’re looking for—could be a coincidence. Ajax identified him as some punk who called himself ‘the Enforcer’.”
“So where’s Ajax now?”
“He’s at the bar. I told him to stay around until you got there and you’d see he wasn’t held.”
“You sure he wasn’t the shooter?”
“Nope. He was on the far side of the room surrounded by a group of his brothers. Fred said the shooter entered through the front door. I’d no sooner pocketed my cell from talking to you when I heard the shots come from inside. Naturally I thought someone had put a hit on Ajax, but when I got inside and had Fred put some light on the situation, Ajax and his brothers were down on the floor over in the same spot I left them.”
“Did you see anyone on your way inside?”
“Nobody. Whoever the shooter was, he knew the bar well enough to know that there was a hidden door behind the men’s room. It leads to a patch that takes you into a wooded area out back and allows you to cut right through to the next block. Of course the bikers use it to duck out of the place anytime the cops happen to show up, but if you aren’t part of the inner circle you’d never know that door was there. It’s well hidden, and it’s not common knowledge.”
“Which makes it more than likely that the shooter was known to some or all of those present.”
“Maybe, but Fred claimed not to recognize him, and I don’t think he was lying. I kind of like the possibility that the shooter might be Sam. If the dead biker was an associate, like we’ve been thinking, and Sam decided it was getting too hot around Fort Worth and he wanted to tie up loose ends before he left for greener pastures, shooting his accomplice in a bar full of the guy’s biker buddies, would give the cops plenty of suspects. It’s not unlikely the dead biker mentioned that side door to Sam thinking it might come in handy at some time or other.”