1 Portrait of a Dead Guy

by Larissa Reinhart

  Mudding? I eyed the hairy man over my shoulder. “No thanks, but glad you like Cherry. My daddy named me after his favorite gun.” Bass Pro’s attention fell back to his beer. I turned back to Red and leaned closer, pointing my mug toward the far end of the bar.

  “When’d you get that? Is it poker?”

  Red glanced at the guys and back to me. He grabbed another wet glass to dry. “That video game? Got it about a week ago. Local guy sells them. It’s got poker, trivia, and some other games on it.”

  “Does it pay out?”

  “Are you crazy? I’d get busted for that. If they’re doing that on their own, I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Some of them pay out.”

  “Sure, I think the Quik Stop may, but I’m not that stupid. The laws are tricky about the amount, and I’m not losing my business over a game. What’s with all the questions?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m just curious.”

  “You know what they say about curiosity and the cat.”

  I studied Pete and Jackson for a long moment and wrinkled my nose at the idea of talking to Creepy Pete. But I wanted to know more about Mr. Max, the Bear, or whatever he was called. If it meant putting up with Creepy Pete, so be it. Luke wasn’t the only one that could ask a few questions.

  I carried my beer to the end of the bar. Slipping past Jackson, I placed myself before the video game. “Now what’s going on here?”

  “You’re blocking our view,” Pete groused.

  “Hey, Cherry,” Jackson said. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I drove Casey to work. I’m just waiting on some food,” I said, studying the video monitor. Five playing cards blinked above a table of numbers. I puckered my mouth at the unimpressive screen. “This is what you guys are doing? How about a game where you can shoot something? At least there’s skill in that.”

  Jackson chuckled. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Sorry to hear about you and Todd.”

  “Don’t worry about me and Todd. We’re still friends.”

  Jackson nodded with a nervous glance toward Pete. Tonight he wore a black concert t-shirt and faded jeans that engulfed his legs. A large rope of fake gold circled his neck and another hung off his right wrist.

  “Move it, Cherry,” said Pete.

  “What’s the rush? You were pretty chatty this morning. Run out of words?”

  Pete licked his lips and flipped his hair behind his shoulders. “You didn’t seem so friendly then. My leg’s still sore where you kicked me.”

  “I was having a private conversation when you walked up and started insulting me. Is that a nice way to start my day?”

  “Where’s the guy you were with?” Pete’s scowl lifted into a sly smile. “You socked him a good one. Got him whipped pretty good, huh?”

  “You kicked Pete and hit a guy?” said Jackson.

  “Pete exaggerates.” I tipped a shoulder up. “I met your Mr. Max today. What’s his deal?”

  “Why are you so interested?”

  I stepped closer to Pete, skimming my back against the bar. “Had a little run-in with the Bear at JB’s dealership. He’s missing some manners.”

  Pete shrugged.

  “I heard he collects a lot of antique stuff. And runs games for big-wigs with a huge pot.” Pete glanced around and started nudging me toward the wall. “Dustin was his right hand man, not you?”

  “Keep it down, woman.” Pete grasped my elbow and I whipped my arm away.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  We cornered ourselves in a niche between the end of the bar and front door, far enough from Jackson not to be heard. He watched us for a moment, thought better of joining, and turned back to the video game.

  “You don’t like being called woman? You’re so picky. No wonder Todd gave you the boot. Probably likes his cherries sweeter.” His eyes skimmed over my body. “Hope my boy got some good mileage out of you before he turned you in.”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “Why are you so interested in my boss?”

  “Because I’m painting your dead friend and it makes me wonder who split his skull, that’s why. Don’t you want justice?” I placed one hand on my hip and positioned my beer mug between us.

  “I don’t know nothing about it. I already told the cops that.”

  “But you know something about Mr. Max,” I persisted.

  “Mr. Max has a lot of different businesses. Some of it’s import and export. Some gaming equipment like this one here in the bar.”

  “Gaming equipment? What about drugs?”

  “Drugs?”

  “I thought I heard Dustin’s murder was related to drugs. Isn’t Dustin’s mom mixed in with that crowd?”

  “She hustles. Maybe she sells a little smoke, but she mostly scams. But I don’t know nothing about that neither. I only know about poker.” He quickly looked away, realizing his mistake. “You’re nosier than a biddy tonight.”

  “Like I said, I’m interested because of Dustin.” I crossed my fingers behind my back. “And I kind of have a thing for guys that play poker.”

  He appraised me with a long, disturbing look. “Well now, Miss Cherry. Guess we finally found something to talk about. Maybe you’re looking for an invitation to see some real action, not like the bitty games Todd plays?” He chuckled. “And I ain’t talking about poker.”

  “Let’s stick with Mr. Max’s games. It must be pretty big if he needs you.”

  “Now I’m not saying he has a card room, but if he did it’s nice and fancy. Not like the usual back porch stuff in Halo.”

  “So he’s got a nice house. What’s he need with you?”

  “Mr. Max is a smart man,” Pete lifted his chin. “He didn’t want just anyone getting into his kind of place. He has a guest list.”

  “Then you were bouncers. Why couldn’t he put a lock on the door like normal people?”

  “We were more than that. And he has a fancy alarm system. He just doesn’t like turning it on so people could look at his old junk.”

  “You were guard dogs?”

  “Not me. Dustin was more of the guard dog,” he said with a sniff. “Kept hoping somebody would try something so he could intimidate them, you know. He was my boy, but he could be meaner than shit. I’m good enough to play with the gentlemen, but Dustin must’ve convinced Mr. Max to keep me bartending.”

  He shook his head. “Dustin was always trying to impress Max like that. Like when Max needed us to collect on a fish that had to borrow from the house, Dustin always took those jobs. Such a show off.”

  “Thought he was special because he was a Branson?” I thought of Shawna.

  “He hated the Bransons. Could have had an easy job at one of his dad’s places and wouldn’t do it.”

  “What do you mean he’d collect on a fish?”

  Pete’s eyes shifted to the side. “There’s a lot of money at Mr. Max’s. Like you said, the pot was big and it ain’t a cap game. Ten grand to get in the door, he keeps ten percent. Most of the guests were good for it. It’s supposed to be classy. But every once in a while, you’d get a goober in there who’d put up the front money, but would lose his shirt and couldn’t pay out. So Mr. Max would loan him money to play and send Dustin out later to collect.”

  I whistled low. “Was Dustin collecting on someone when he was murdered?”

  Pete squinted one eye and scratched the grizzled beard. “I thought he was changing his oil. But now that I think of it, Dustin said he was hunting for Mr. Max a day or two before he was killed.”

  “Hunting people, animals, what?”

  Pete shrugged. “Dunno.”

  “Did you tell that to the police?”

  “What for?”

  I sighed. “Do you think Mr. Max could have ki
lled Dustin?”

  “What for? Dustin worked for him.”

  “Maybe Dustin saw or heard something he shouldn’t have. Maybe Dustin was hustling him. Use your imagination. Don’t you watch TV?”

  “You sure are interested in Dustin. Did you have a thing for him, too?”

  “That’d be a big no.” I finished my beer in one gulp and gained some confidence from the amber liquid.

  “You know what I think?” Pete pushed a greasy lock behind his ear before dropping his hand to the wall behind my head. “I think it was the stepbrother.”

  I sputtered a fine spray of foam back into the mug and wiped my mouth on my arm. “What?”

  “Just a minute.” Creepy Pete broke off, grabbed the empty mug from my hand, and returned with two beers.

  I studied the mug, shocked at Pete’s generosity.

  “You owe me three bucks,” he said as I took a generous nip. “Unless you’d like to pay me back another way.” A disturbing smile played across his face, and the dull olive eyes warmed. “You know, I’ve been telling you a lot of stuff I shouldn’t. Why don’t you make it worth my while? I’m not particular.”

  My stomach turned a somersault. I fished three dollars from my pocket and smacked the money in his palm. “Just go on with your story about Dustin’s family.”

  Pete stole a few steps closer. His breath, smelling of beer and menthol cigarettes, fanned over my face.

  I sucked on my beer, hiding my disgust and building courage.

  Pete leaned into the wall next to me. “Dustin had a stepbrother. They hated each other.”

  “Yeah, I know. Luke Harper. So what?”

  “He got out of the Army a couple weeks ago. Shows up here, gets in a big fight with Dustin, and then disappears. Comes back after the murder.”

  “That doesn’t mean Luke killed him.”

  “Dustin told me lots of stuff about that Luke. Said he was psycho. Liked to fight him for no reason.”

  “He’s not psycho. You never met Luke before today?”

  “What do you mean before today? I’ve never met him period. He’d been in the Army the whole time I knew Dustin.”

  “Just as well if he’s psycho,” said a voice behind me. A hand slipped around my waist. “Cherry means you must have met him at the visitation today.”

  I pivoted to my left. Luke gave his head a half-shake and tightened the grip around my waist, pulling me into his side. “Hey, hon. Thanks for waiting on me. What’re you guys talking about?”

  Pete slammed his beer on the bar in obvious irritation. “I didn’t go to the visitation. I don’t like funerals. Cherry didn’t say she was waiting on anyone.” His swung his accusation back to me. “I thought you said you were here to drop your sister off.”

  “I must’ve forgot about him.” I elbowed Luke in the ribs. He was scaring away my fish right when I had him on my line. And it took a lot of disgusting work to get him this far.

  “What’d you say your name is?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  Pete’s eyes narrowed.

  “Wouldn’t want Todd to hear about this.” My cheeks grew hot. That had to be one of the dumber things I’d ever said. I rubbed my face, wondering when the beer had caught up with my brain. Or maybe it wasn’t the beer. Maybe it was Luke.

  “You screwing around on Todd?” Pete’s face lightened in excitement at the gossip and dropped to a glower. “Wait a minute, he dumped you. What’re you saying?”

  What was I saying? This is why I don’t lie. I suck at it. “I was not dumped at any altar and quit spreading gossip like an old lady at a church bazaar.” I chugged the rest of my beer and shoved the mug into Pete’s chest. “I’m done explaining myself to you.”

  Luke followed me as I marched out of the bar. Guess he didn’t want to explain himself to Pete either. Three seconds later we stood in Red’s foyer between a rack of real estate ads and a gumball machine.

  “I was doing just fine until you showed up.”

  “Really? Didn’t look like it.”

  “Yes, really. Creepy Pete was telling me all sorts of stuff about Dustin.”

  “Like what?”

  Luke took a step closer with his eyes steady on mine. His hand brushed against me and a shock of electricity ran down my arms. Without breaking eye contact, his fingers captured one of my wayward hands.

  “What did you hear?” he repeated.

  I took a deep breath, concentrating on playing hard ball. “None of your business.”

  “Not going to share?” Luke’s long fingers stroked the back of my hand. “Maybe we should work together. We used to be good together.”

  “That was a long time ago,” I said, but allowed Luke to swing our hands up to his chest. Speaking of a long time ago, it had been a long time since a man held my hand to his chest.

  I stifled a sigh. “I need to get my wings. Drunk or not, I’m still starving.”

  “Let me. I owe you dinner. We’ll take them back to your place and eat there.”

  “You owe me a hell of a lot more than a platter full of hot wings. I’ll just walk home. Leave Casey my keys and get my dinner.”

  I pulled my hand from his and fished my keys from my pocket, triumphant in winning the battle of logic over loins. Without missing a beat, Luke leaned over and caught me full on the lips.

  He tasted warm and sweet and delicious. My hands found their way around his shoulders. One hand dangled keys. The other hand snuck fingers through the dark locks curling across the back of his neck. My feet pushed up onto my toes, stretching to meet his stoop. I almost swooned with the flashbacks to our nights of fogging up the windows of his black four-by-four.

  I might have moaned, but I heard Luke sigh before sliding our faces apart. We wobbled under the Coors Light sign for half a minute before Luke yanked the keys out of my hand.

  “I’ll give these to Casey and take you home.”

  And, somehow, I just couldn’t find the words to argue.

  TEN

  The kitchen door slammed against the wall, shaking the yellowing linoleum beneath our feet. The smell of hot wings wafted through the night air as a Styrofoam container flew onto the countertop and skidded to a stop. Wings and sauce splattered against the backsplash. Luke’s hand, freed from carrying takeout, returned to my body pinned between the open kitchen door and his lean physique. My right hand smacked the wall in search of the light switch. The left clung to Luke who was nibbling a trail of kisses down my neck. With my eyes closed the lights no longer mattered. My right hand forewent its search of the light switch and joined the left in the more enjoyable pursuit of reacquainting myself to Luke’s delectable body.

  This was probably a bad idea. My inner voice — the one that sounded a lot like Grandma Jo — continued a litany of complaints starting with Luke’s old deeds and ending with the possibility of his involvement in Dustin’s death. But between the hormones and beer, there wasn’t room for Grandma Jo. In fact, Luke and I were so tightly squeezed together, you couldn’t slip a piece of paper between us.

  “Hush Grandma,” I thought, running a hand over the washboard under Luke’s shirt.

  “Did you say something?”

  My eyelids fluttered open to a thick mop of ruffled, dark curls rising before my face. Luke’s lazy eyes peeked up at me. “Out loud? I don’t think so.” My hands found the bottom of his t-shirt and tugged. “Just trying to get rid of this.”

  “Only if you get rid of this.” Luke yanked at the camouflage tank top.

  His hand crawled under the top, inching its way up my belly, focused on a higher goal. I wriggled underneath his touch and bent forward, pulling air through my nose like a frightened rabbit.

  “Still ticklish.” Luke kissed my shoulder. “Do you think we should shut this door or what?”
r />   Before I could answer, he tipped his head up and found my mouth. I clung to his shoulders, not trusting my legs to stand on their own. My blood’s circulation had been diverted. My feet worked no better than a ragdoll’s.

  We spent the better part of minute glued to each other with my right leg hiked around his left thigh, rattling the open door behind my back. I ignored the draft blowing around us, but my nostrils kept picking up the aroma of hot wings. My stomach protested with an audible roar.

  Luke’s lips rested on my forehead. “I think we need to feed the beast.”

  He unpeeled my body from his and the door swung shut. After a half second, I heard the lock turn.

  “I’m taking no chances on someone showing up uninvited.”

  “Then you better leave the lights off. The minute the lights come on, folks stumble over here from the County Line.”

  “Even with your truck gone?”

  “How many times a week do you think I lend it to one of my siblings or park it at Red’s to walk home? Besides, there are bets laid out to see when the Datsun finally heaves its last rattle. Ronny Price is probably rubbing his hands together just waiting for me to pony up for a gleaming F-150.”

  “So lights off.” Two hands planted on my hips and dragged me a step closer. “Can you eat in the dark, too? Maybe quiet that noise come from your stomach while I’m kissing you.”

  “You need to concentrate?”

  “It’s not about concentrating. It’s disconcerting to hear your body sound like a wild boar in death throes.”

  “It’s not that bad.” I slipped from his grasp and moved to the counter. Picking up a drummie, I licked off the sauce. “They just smelled so good.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about your day while you eat?” Luke leaned into the counter and grabbed a wing.

  “What? Like running a Tucker taxi service for people who have their own vehicles but don’t want to drive them?”

  “I don’t mean your whole day. You know what I mean.” He nudged my leg with his. “What did Pete say?”

  His curiosity niggled at my common sense, but I recounted my interview with Creepy Pete and meeting Mr. Max. My gut told me if Luke was involved in Dustin’s death, he was protecting someone else. And I doubted Luke was protecting Creepy Pete or Max Avtaikin.