Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery)

by Reinhart, Larissa

  “Kool-Aid tastes better. I can make it.”

  I set to washing dishes and wiping down the counter while Jerell mixed up the fake Kool-Aid. He poured four glasses of red liquid sugar and placed the pitcher in the fridge. We carried the glasses to the living room and set them on a coffee table heaped with tabloids and video game boxes.

  I sipped the lukewarm red syrup and hid my grimace. “Good job, Jerell. Nothing like a glass of juice to make my afternoon sweet.”

  He beamed and slipped back on the couch, resting his glass on his round belly.

  “So how’d you two know Tyrone?” asked Miss Gladys. “Did you hear how he died? I always figured he’d fall off a pole, not get shot.”

  Luke and I exchanged a look.

  “I’m actually a sheriff’s deputy, ma’am,” said Luke. “I found Tyrone at a crime scene and brought him in for questioning.”

  “Stealing copper?” she asked.

  “Yes and no,” said Luke “He witnessed a crime and we needed his statement. Tyrone was very helpful.”

  “I drew his description of the perp,” I said. “Tyrone seemed real nice.”

  “He was a cheerful boy, but a hell-raiser just the same.”

  “Daddy Tyrone bought me all these video games,” said Jerell. “And my Nintendo DS.”

  “Did you see Tyrone on the day of his murder, ma’am?” asked Luke. “We talked to his girlfriend, Destiny.”

  “That girl?” said Miss Gladys. “Don’t listen to her. She’d just as soon as lie than look at you.”

  “Destiny’s having a baby,” said Jerell. “But she’s not tweaking no more until the baby comes. That’s what Daddy Tyrone said.”

  Mrs. Coderre snorted, then fell into a hacking spell. She shoved her breathing tubes back in her nose and collapsed against the faded couch. I hopped up to sit next to the woman and held her hand until the coughing finished. The veins on her hands felt like granite ridges beneath her papery skin.

  “Do you know who killed Tyrone?” she rasped. “I don’t get much for Social Security. Tyrone helped me out, God bless him. I’m hoping I can sue the killer.”

  I patted her hand. “We’ll find out who did this.”

  “The Sheriff’s Office will find the perp,” corrected Luke with a hard glance at me. “We’re on top of it.”

  “I saw Daddy Tyrone yesterday,” said Jerell. “Before he was killed, I mean.”

  “You’re lying,” said Miss Gladys, “You was in school.”

  Jerell’s plump cheeks reddened. “Oh, yeah. I was in school.”

  “You was in school, wasn’t you?” she said and smacked Jerell. The blow glanced off his chin. Her thin, leathery hand wouldn’t have left an impression on a gnat, but Jerell’s cheeks darkened.

  His eyes dropped to his shoes. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Lord, all I need is another delinquent. I am too old for this.”

  I patted Miss Gladys’s hand. “I’m sure the boy was in school. Do you have a bedroom, Jerell? Maybe you want to show Mr. Luke where you play video games? If you did see your daddy, I’m sure Mr. Luke would love to hear about it. You might help catch a bad guy.”

  Luke nodded and stood. “You like to play football?”

  “I like to kill zombies better,” Jerell cast Luke a dark glance. “You ain’t going to light up in my room are you?”

  “No, son,” said Luke. “I don’t do that. How about you show me how good you are at killing zombies and we can talk about your daddy. Miss Cherry will talk to your great-grandma.”

  Jerell flicked a glance at Miss Gladys and nodded. He pushed off the couch and wobbled toward the back of the trailer with Luke following. Before reaching one of the plywood doors, he stopped and studied Luke. “You ain’t gonna eat my candy stash are you?”

  “Nope,” said Luke. “Don’t want to ruin my dinner.”

  Jerell’s face scrunched in surprise. Evidently, “ruin my dinner” was not in Jerell’s vocabulary bank. They disappeared through his bedroom door.

  Miss Gladys’s breathing grew more labored.

  I rubbed her hand between mine. “What are you going to do with Jerell?”

  “I don’t know. The Family Service people’s been here before. Tyrone was in County Jail for a spell. I’ll try to keep Jerell with me, but I don’t know how much longer I have on this earth.”

  “Don’t say that,” I blinked away a tear. “Do you have other family who can take him? What about his mother?”

  “She’s gone. And the rest of them are down the road,” she said. “They’s so high most of the time, I don’t let Jerell visit no more.”

  She fell forward, and I pulled her into my body, absorbing the shaking and wheezing. Miss Gladys lifted her head. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Tyrone was a sweet boy. But he was so stupid. How could he leave us like this? What am I going to do with his son?”

  “I don’t know ma’am,” My eyes grew hot. “Let me come by from time to time. Are you having a funeral? You want some help with that?”

  She shook her head. “Can’t afford a funeral. There’s a pine box for him. That’s all he gets.”

  “Do you have a place to bury him at least? I know some church folks. I’ll get you a funeral. And there’s Victim’s Assistance. Maybe they can help.”

  “They ain’t going to release the body for a while. They said the Medical Examiner’s got to check him out.”

  “I’ll make some calls for you. We’ll get you a funeral. And I’ll make sure we find Tyrone’s killer.”

  Eleven

  As there was no chicken and rice casserole waiting for me at home and I didn’t want to keep my distress over the Coderres to myself, I had Luke drop me off at Red’s County Line Tap.

  Red provided a one-stop shopping experience to meet all my needs in nourishment and entertainment. All within stumbling distance to my home. The old wooden bar top made a good confessional, and Red took his bartender role seriously. He not only listened, but dispensed advice and medicinal refreshment in the form of beer.

  I liked the beer better than the advice most nights.

  My sister glanced at my entrance, tossed a basket of fried shrimp on a family’s table, and scurried to my side.

  She flipped her pony tail off her shoulder and wiped her hands on her apron before hugging me. She had toned down her usual waitressing gear for the Wednesday night crowd. Although they didn’t leave much to the imagination, her clothes covered her flesh. For the most part.

  “How’d it go?” she said.

  I shook my head. “It’s not good. Tyrone’s family is just pitiful. His son, Jerell, doesn’t have a mother or a father now. His great-grandma is raising him and she’s a cough away from keeling over.”

  “Damn,” said Casey. “That’s bad news. Poor kid. He’ll end up in the system.”

  I bit my lip.

  “You can’t adopt a kid,” said Casey. “We’ve got no place to store him. And if you think about sending him to the farm, Grandpa will feed you to the goats.”

  “I want to do something for the Coderres. I called Leah to arrange for her church to do a service for Tyrone and to see if someone can find him a plot.”

  “Is Leah coming in tonight?”

  “No, she’s got praise services tonight.” Leah played organ, directed choirs in local churches, and cut loose by singing in Todd’s band at Red’s. We’d been friends since kindergarten after I slugged Brandy Cosgrove who had stolen her Beanie Babies dolphin. I’d received my first suspension and a friend for life. “Leah’ll help me with the funeral, but it’s not enough. I want to do more for the Coderres.”

  “Come eat,” Casey grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the bar. “Did they like the casserole?”

  I nodded and eased myself onto a bar stool. At one end, Todd and Cody held an animated discussion with Red. Locals filled half the tables, mainly groups of parents escorting kids to and from ball practice. Sports news glimmered from the flat screens covering the walls.

  The long, narrow bar
and grill would hold different patrons on the weekend. The small stage at the far end reminded the families of the rowdier weekend crowd who packed the one and only social club in Halo. Red did well servicing both groups in the moral juggling act that kept small town taverns afloat.

  “How was Luke?” Casey knew my man saga too well. We both had been afflicted with the same gene our floozy mother had passed on to us. When it came to good-looking men, our brains tended to shift into neutral, while our hearts and libido revved into overdrive.

  “Just dandy,” I said.

  “Does he miss you?”

  “Didn’t act like it. Didn’t offer to come in to Red’s. Too busy saving Forks County. We found out Jerell had seen his daddy before Tyrone went back to the rest stop. Told Jerell he needed to meet someone. Maybe Luke’s checking on that,” I sighed and allowed Casey a peek at my pity party. “Or maybe Luke didn’t want to come in because he was late for a hot hookup.”

  “What you need,” said Casey, “is another guy to get your mind off of Luke.”

  “I need another man like you need another tattoo. Just one more regret to figure out how to remove later.”

  “You’re too serious. Just find someone for some fun. You need to think good times, not long time.”

  “I thought I was doing that with Todd and we ended up married,” I said. “Now I can’t get rid of him. Good thing I came to my senses while I could still get an annulment.”

  “That’s what I mean by too serious.”

  Red waved us over, and I hopped stools to move closer to their huddle. Cody gave us a nod.

  “Hey Cherry,” said Red. He slid a frosty mug in front of me, which I accepted gratefully. “Someone was in here tonight talking about an artist who does pervert paintings. Do you know who that is? I know I’m not into the art scene, but it made me curious.”

  I slapped my hands over my face and settled my elbows on the bar.

  “What’s wrong? Someone you know?”

  “It’s Cherry,” said Casey. “She’s the pervert.”

  “Cherry and Todd,” said Cody, pulling his Peterbilt cap lower on his head.

  “We make a good couple,” Todd slipped his arm around my shoulder for a quick squeeze. “Don’t be ashamed.”

  I dropped my hands to glare at Todd. “Only if you’re talking muse and artist, not a couple of perverts. Red, my reputation is in tatters and Shawna Branson is holding a lighter and a can of gasoline to what’s left.”

  “What did you do?” said Red. He waved at Casey to shoo her back to her customers.

  “Why do you always assume this is something I’ve done?”

  The corner of Red’s mouth rose.

  Cody smirked, while Todd adjusted his poker face to deadpan.

  “I know Shawna doesn’t think much of you,” said Red, “but this seems a little extreme. Even for Shawna.”

  “Blackmail,” I said. “Once word gets out I’m doing deviant art, the town will paint a scarlet P on our family.”

  “I’ll still serve you,” said Red. “It’s not like y’all Tuckers have a pristine reputation anyway.”

  “That’s our mother’s fault and you’ll notice she left town because of it,” I swiveled on my seat and nodded to the crowd eating dinner. “You won’t want me in here once everyone decides I’m a social pariah. They’ll start taking their kids to Line Creek for wings and fries.”

  Cody hopped off his seat. “I’ve got to get.” He kicked my stool, the brotherly form of a reassuring hug. “Don’t worry, sister. It’ll all work out.”

  Red looked up from wiping bar glasses. “I sure hope so. I’ve never liked Shawna, but I’m in the minority. I’ve a mind to stop serving her. She called my bar ‘quaint.’”

  I spun on my stool to face Todd. “Enough about me. Did you hear back from the SipNZip?”

  “Not yet,” he slapped a spunky rhythm on the bar top. “I feel good about my chances though.”

  “I’d hire you here,” said Red, “but let’s see how this whole painting deal shakes out. If people associate you with Cherry, they might stop eating here because of you, too.”

  “Great,” I said. “Another reason for me to find those pictures. Todd won’t be able to work in this town either.”

  “What are these pictures?” asked Red. “Kodak moments? Must be pretty hot if she’s willing to blackmail for them.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “If you find the photos, I want to see them before you give them back to Shawna.” Red gave me a toothy smile and waggled his auburn brows. “Shawna’s a pain in the ass, but she’s a well-endowed pain in the ass.”

  I rolled my eyes and wrinkled my nose.

  “Have you checked the farm?” asked Todd. “Maybe you don’t realize you have them and they’re in your old room. Maybe the pictures are from high school or something.”

  “Good idea, Todd.”

  Todd grinned and his drumming moved from spunky to ecstatic.

  “Tomorrow I’m going to Sweetgum to see the Coderres. I’ll head to the farm before checking on Miss Gladys.”

  His drumming slowed. “Sweetgum? Maybe I should go with you.”

  “I had no problem in Sweetgum today,” I said. “The Coderres need groceries brought. What could happen on a goodwill visit?”

  Twelve

  The next morning I sped down the county highway in my sister’s Firebird, loving the freedom that an overhauled 350 small block V-eight engine could bring.

  I needed to find Shawna’s snapshots on this visit, but thought Pearl might have some advice on how to help the Coderres. I also hoped Grandpa might have some word on the hijacking. Uncle Will sometimes slipped him a few nuggets that didn’t leak out to the rest of the world.

  At the turn to the farm lane, I did my usual scan for goats and other dangerous road blocks and proceeded with caution down the gravel road. At the fork, no bearded monsters appeared. I continued toward the house and parked in the driveway. Hopping out of my truck, I glanced around and scurried to the kitchen door, unslobbered and unchased. For one long masochistic minute, I stood on the stoop, searching the half-chewed azaleas and gardenia bushes for bobbing white tails. Seeing none, I hopped from the stoop and poked my head around the corner of the ranch house. The vegetable garden stood empty except for cages of tomatoes and the long, twisting pumpkin vines opening their blooms for the early sunshine.

  “Maybe he sold the herd,” I muttered and felt a small pang of sadness. The pang dispersed as my eyes darted to the barbed wire enclosing the back forty. In the distance, other hooved and horned beasts pranced in a pretty Turner-like pastoral.

  At the fence line stood the white billy goat, Tater. His amber eyes gleamed in recognition, and he bleated a note of welcome. Or warning. You could never tell with Tater.

  “What are you doing in the pasture, boy?” I asked, approaching the fence with my normal goat caution.

  He bleated again and shook his gigantic goat head.

  “I know. Your life has been turned upside down, hasn’t it? Everything was rosy there for a time. Had the barnyard to yourself. Rammed my truck when you damn well pleased. Now fate has intervened and stuck you behind a fence.”

  He bobbed his head, his beard catching in the fence barbs.

  I gingerly extended my hand through the fence and rubbed his head. He nibbled at my shirt and then set his teeth to it. I yanked my hand back.

  “Don’t go pushing your luck. But I know how you feel. Do you think we’ll ever get back to the way things used to be? I had customers who wanted paintings of their newborns and frames for their commemorative NASCAR merchandise. I had a boyfriend who I thought was also my friend. A family who didn’t live with me, but I could visit on an as-needed basis. And a nemesis who left our pistol-dueling to potshots about my clothing and family ineptitudes.”

  Tater stuck his head between the wire and mouthed my jeans, spreading gooey green spittle over the denim.

  I hopped back a step. “This is Pearl’s doing, isn’t
it? Did that woman stick you in here?”

  Tater pulled back, catching his horn in the upper wire. As he yanked, the barb caught at his beard. He bellowed his angst, and I worked at shoving his horn behind the wire. More hair tangled in the lower barbs and the big goat made a frightened call for help.

  “Just a minute, boy.” The barbs pricked my skin, but I unwound the long, course hair without ripping.

  He jumped back and scuttled away from the fence.

  “It’s time to set things to rights. I know Pearl thinks she’s helping Grandpa by taking control of the farm, but she’s gone too far.” I walked to the gate, sucking on my pricked fingers. “I’m letting you free, Tater. But next time I drive up the lane and you get in my way, I will not hesitate to ram your thick, dirty hide.”

  He bellowed his thanks, and I left the goat to do some of my own ramming of Pearl’s thick hide.

  I entered the house, seeking the vixen who had invaded our home and caged the goat I normally loathed. Pearl had taken over the farm kitchen, once Casey’s domain. Chased my brother from his barn full of rusting and gutted vehicles. And stolen the heart of my Grandpa Ed. If that was even possible.

  Maybe stolen his stomach was a better way to look at it.

  Pearl stood at the kitchen counter. The temptress had one hand splayed on a full hip clad in denim capris. The other hand clutched a tape measure. She wore a black tank top and her iron gray hair had a mussed, spiky style. A cut my Grandma Jo would think questionable for a woman of her age. Normally I’d like it, but this was the seducer of my Grandpa.

  Her attention was on the window above the sink, but she turned at my entrance, giving me a view of her boob tattoo and the Harley emblazoned on her tank. “Cherry, what are you doing here?”

  “Never mind that. What’s with that tape measure?”

  “I’m going to make new curtains. I hope you’re not here just looking for a meal.”

  I sucked in my lips and fixed my eyes on the gingham curtains that had hung above the sink as long as I could remember. Considering my siblings and I had been raised in this house after our negligent mother dumped us on our grandparents, those curtains had seen a lot. Which was maybe why they were now stained and faded and the hem had unraveled.