The Bogus Biker

by Judy Nickles

  “You don’t have to twist my arm. He won’t chew you up like he would me, that’s for sure.”

  Jake crossed himself, bowed his head briefly, and turned his attention to his breakfast. “So what’s the connection between Tiny and Brad?”

  “Maybe Tiny’s undercover. If he were a crook, he wouldn’t be so complimentary of a cop.”

  “I wonder if Brad knows him?”

  “There’s a thought.” Penelope tucked an errant strand of hair behind one ear and tugged on her gold hoop earring.

  “Well, maybe I can find out,” Jake said.

  “He said to stay away from the Sit-n-Swill.”

  “Probably good advice. That’s what Brad said, too.”

  “And he said coming to look for him last night was dumb. That made me mad.”

  “Did you tell him it was my idea?”

  “I don’t think he believed me. Anyway, he shouldn’t have called me dumb.”

  “Oh, get over it, Nellie. You were valedictorian of your high school graduating class and finished first in nursing school.”

  “He doesn’t know that.” She stuck out her bottom lip.

  Jake laughed. “Doesn’t matter. You know it.”

  “Why are you so blessed logical?” She took the two baggies out of hiding behind some canned goods in the pantry. “Here’s the evidence. I’m going upstairs to clean.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Penelope unlocked the third floor loft, now a two-room-plus-bath apartment but once the attic where she’d played on rainy days. Instead of the chaos she expected to see, courtesy of two freckle-faced eight-year-old twin boys, the beds were made, and their fleet of miniature cars and trucks were lined up neatly beneath the luggage rack.

  She smiled. Good parents who made their children toe the mark. Lucky kids, too. She always thought she’d been lucky with Bradley. Despite his father’s indulgences, he’d been a pretty good kid, giving her a minimum of lip, breaking rules only occasionally and then nothing serious.

  In the bathroom, she picked up the towels—neatly folded over the edge of the tub—and wiped down the fixtures which didn’t have the slightest water spotting. After replacing the towels, she ran the stick vacuum over the area rugs and hardwood floors.

  Back in the hall, she dropped the laundry bag with the towels down the laundry chute which ended up in the utility room on the first floor. She replaced two bottles of water and several boxes of juice in the small refrigerator on the landing outside the door. As a matter of principle, she didn’t make soft drinks available to children. If the parents allowed them, that was their business.

  On the second floor, she decided not to clean the room which the two men had occupied. Likely Bradley would send Rosabel or Parnell to go over it. Maybe he’d even come himself. But at the end of the hall, she let herself into the front room where Tiny had stayed the night before. Tangled bed covers and a towel on the floor by the bed made her cheeks flame. Not having any pajamas, he’d probably slept au naturel. Travis, her ex-husband, had plenty of pajamas which he never wore, and she expected nothing had changed since he’d hooked up with Shana Bayliss, the town’s ex-librarian who was Bradley’s age and had been, in fact, Bradley’s girlfriend until his father put the moves on her.

  The pillow bore the imprint of Tiny’s head. A few drops of blood had seeped from beneath the bandage. She changed the pillowcase, then made the bed and cleaned the bathroom.

  Would he be back? Why did she even care? Maybe I should go uptown and get him a package of underwear and some pajamas. I could say I was buying them for Daddy, but the clerk would know better. He’s a lot smaller than Tiny. Maybe I could call Mary Lynn and…no, that wouldn’t do. Mary Lynn doesn’t need to know about Tiny, at least not just yet. I can just hear her. She’d blow up like Vesuvius. ‘You let a stranger spend the night after he hit on you? A biker? You could’ve been dead in your bed! Honestly, Pen!’

  Penelope headed downstairs. Well, that leaves Daddy, I guess. He’ll know what to get. Travis did his own shopping, and so did Bradley after he turned thirteen. Back in the kitchen, she emptied and refilled the dishwasher, started a load of laundry, and then sat down at the table with a cup of coffee and her menu notebook. Maybe I’ll get out the clown waffle iron and make those sweet little boys a really special breakfast tomorrow. I’ll tell them it’s because they were quiet as mice and good as gold.

  She reflected on how much Bradley liked her breakfast treats when he was growing up. Even when she worked the night shift at the hospital in Little Rock, she was always home in time to fix his breakfast before he went to school. And she was always up again by the time he came home.

  Jake whistled himself through the back door, breaking into her thoughts. She watched him pull a can of soda from the refrigerator, toss it from hand to hand in a sort of triumphant display, and whistle some more.

  “Daddy, what have you done?”

  He sat down across from her. “Just had a nice visit with my grandson, that’s all.”

  “That’s not all, and you know it.”

  He grinned as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small hand-held recorder which he placed on the table between them. “I happened to think about this before I left. Remember that college student who was researching the history of Amaryllis? He used it when he interviewed me about the Garden Market.”

  “He left it behind?”

  “Well, I gave him the tapes.”

  “And kept the recorder.”

  Jake nodded. “Told him I sort of liked it, and he said I could have it. He could afford it, Nellie. He was one of those Gaults from over at Fayetteville.” He opened the can of soda with a flourish. So I just took it with me and ran the little microphone under my collar.”

  “Bradley didn’t see the cord?”

  Jake shook his head. “I wore two shirts.”

  “Honestly, Daddy, it’s probably already eighty degrees out there.”

  He frowned at her. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  Penelope leaned forward. “You know I do.”

  When Jake pushed a button, Bradley’s voice filled the kitchen.

  “What are you doing down here, Pawpaw?”

  “Brought you a present.”

  “What’s this?”

  “What your mamma found in the room those dudes vacated yesterday morning.”

  “What dudes?”

  “The ones who were talking about some sort of shipment to the Sit-n-Swill. Don’t take my hand off, Brad. You can have the baggies.”

  “Do you know what this is?”

  “I have a pretty good idea. So did your mother.”

  “They were talking about a shipment?”

  “Well, that’s why you showed up there last night, isn’t it?”

  “Pawpaw, you know I can’t tell you that.”

  “Sure, sure, I know. Never mind. Here’s their registration card, but the names are probably fake.”

  “Mother needs to start asking for IDs.”

  “Those can be faked, too.”

  “I know, but…”

  “These guys just rolled in off the street about seven-thirty. Said they got tired of driving and needed a place to spend the night.”

  “Plenty of places in Little Rock.”

  “That’s kind of what I was thinking, too. I mean, they didn’t just suddenly decide they were tired twenty-seven miles after they passed the last motel on I-30.”

  “You’d have made a good detective, Pawpaw.”

  “Nah, I liked the Garden Market. In at six, out at four, lunch whenever I wanted to take it, and home in plenty of time for supper with Wynne and Nellie every night.”

  “Has Mother cleaned the room yet?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Good. I’ll send somebody to go over it. Ask her if she’d recognize those two men from pictures.”

  “I’ll do it. How’s Abigail getting along at the library?”

  “All right.”

  “She’s a nic
e little girl.”

  “She’s my age, Pawpaw.”

  “You’re a nice little boy.” Jake guffawed in unison with himself on the tape. “Just funnin’ you, Brad. Seen your daddy lately?”

  “No.”

  “You should.”

  “I don’t like going out there with her around.”

  “Her as in Shana Bayliss. Well, Travis is a free agent.”

  “They’re not married!” Penelope heard the pain in her son’s voice and hurt for him.

  “Lots of people aren’t these days.”

  “They should be if they’re going to live together.”

  “Isn’t it called ‘shacking up’ now?”

  “That’s the nicer term for it.”

  “Uh-huh, well listen, I’ll tell your mother what you said about leaving the room alone.”

  “Stay out of the Sit-n-Swill, Pawpaw. Tell Mother to stay out of it, too.”

  “We both will. Don’t be a stranger, Brad. We miss you.”

  Jake switched off the recorder. “I got more information than I thought I would.”

  Penelope sat back in her chair. “I wonder if I’ll have to go look at mug shots?”

  “Maybe. Tiny coming back tonight?

  “I have no idea, but if he does, he needs some…things.”

  “Boxers or briefs?”

  “How would I know?” Penelope’s face went hot again. “And pajamas.”

  “I’ll drive over to the Walmart on the highway. No point giving anybody around here any ideas.”

  “You could say they’re for you.”

  “I wear boxers, and I don’t wear pajamas. I sort of bet Tiny doesn’t either, but…”

  Penelope jumped up. “Just go, Daddy. And be careful on the road.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Office Rosabel Deane, looking curvier in her well-cut uniform than any officer had to the right to look in Penelope’s opinion, showed up just before noon. “They were talking about a shipment to the Sit-n-Swill,” Penelope repeated as she took Rosabel upstairs.

  Inside the room, Rosabel sniffed the air with a practiced nose. “Uh-huh.” She crossed the room to look under the bed and in the closet.

  “Pot?” Penelope asked, keeping her tone neutral.

  “Right.”

  “That’s what I thought, too. Find anything at the Sit-n-Swill after we left last night?”

  “Not much.”

  “I know you can’t talk about it.”

  Rosabel smiled, displaying a deep dimple in each olive-skinned cheek. Penelope had heard her grandparents were first-generation immigrants from Lebanon and considered that the younger woman’s heritage showcased itself in all the best ways.

  “Did Bradley or Chief Malone send you over here?”

  A slight pink illuminated Rosabel’s smooth complexion. “Sergeant Pembroke sent me.”

  Penelope nodded. “Abigail Talbot’s a nice girl, but you and Bradley have more in common.”

  Rosabel turned her face away and put on a pair of plastic gloves which she used to slip a glass from the bathroom sink into an evidence bag.

  “I didn’t touch anything,” Penelope assured her. “Just got the hair out of the sink and the green stuff out of the trash.

  “Good thinking.”

  “Bradley doesn’t think I think.”

  “No?” The younger woman made another circle of the room and checked the closet again. “Did they go out at all after they checked in?”

  “Not that I know of. It was seven-thirty. I offered them a sandwich, but I guess they’d already eaten.

  “The names on the registration cards were fake, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

  “My lips are sealed. I guess I need to start asking for ID.”

  “It wouldn’t be a bad idea, Mrs. Pembroke.”

  “Seems sort of silly in a little place like Amaryllis.”

  “Well, it’s getting hotter for the dealers in big towns, so they’re looking into smaller places to cut their deals. Out of the limelight, you know. That’s my opinion anyway. Sergeant Pembroke says maybe and maybe not.

  “It makes sense, I guess.”

  “What exactly did they say to make you and your father go to the Sit-n-Swill last night?”

  “It was Daddy’s idea.” Penelope closed her eyes and screwed up her mouth. Jake said that didn’t help the brain think better, but it was a long-standing habit she couldn’t break. “They were talking at breakfast. I was in and out, but I guess they didn’t notice I was standing in the dish pantry. One of them said, ‘We should’ve waited to come until closer to time to make the drop,’ and the other one said, ‘He said to get here by noon.’”

  Rosabel nodded. “Okay, so how did the Sit-n-Swill come up?”

  “As they were leaving to go back upstairs for their stuff, one of them laughed and said ‘Sit-n-Swill’s a dumb name. Sounds like your granny’s still.’” Penelope narrowed her eyes. “I know this is a small town, but we’re not living in the dark ages. I guess there might be a still or two in Possum Hollow, but…”

  “Would you recognize them again if you saw them?” Rosabel interrupted.

  “I think so.”

  “From pictures?”

  “Maybe.”

  “How were they dressed?”

  “Just casual. Not ratty-casual like kids today. Well-groomed. Short hair—well, except for the one who had a sort of ponytail hanging on his collar. And clean-shaven, even that time of evening. They spoke like they had some education.”

  “Like they were from around here?”

  “Definitely not. They were Yankees.”

  Rosabel chuckled. “Like me.”

  “No offense, sweetie.”

  “I’m learning.”

  “Sure you are. You’ll be a dyed-in-the-wool, unreconstructed Southerner in no time.”

  “Unreconstructed?”

  “Well, maybe not. They’re getting fewer and fewer these days, thank goodness.”

  Rosabel laughed, showing her dimples again. “I’ll see if Sergeant Pembroke wants you to come down and look at some pictures, but it sounds like they were small-timers. Runners. Maybe even part-time, just somebody looking to make a quick buck. Might not be in the system at all.”

  “You all knew something last night. You didn’t just show up because somebody shot off that gun. It happened too quick.”

  “Umm,” Rosabel said. “You can clean the room now, Mrs. Pembroke.”

  “Do you think they left the stuff in their car overnight?”

  “It would’ve been safe enough here. It’s probably why they didn’t stop on the interstate. What kind of luggage did they have?”

  “Come to think of it, nothing but a gym bag apiece.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, it was outside then.”

  On the way downstairs, Penelope said, “Why did Bradley send you instead of coming himself?”

  “Maybe he figured you’d tell me more. Woman-to-woman, you know.”

  “Bradley doesn’t listen to me, so he wouldn’t know what I told him.”

  “Men are like that sometimes.”

  “I’ve seen you at Mass several times, Rosabel, so I’m hoping you’re a practicing Catholic.”

  The young officer nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Unfortunately, sometimes I’m on duty and can’t make it on Sunday, but I try to go during the week when I can.”

  “Abigail Talbot’s a Presbyterian.”

  Rosabel didn’t reply.

  “Well, come by sometime when you’re off-duty. I’ll fix lunch and introduce you to Abijah.”

  “The cat.”

  “You know about him, do you?”

  “Your son doesn’t like him very much.”

  “He doesn’t like Bradley very much either, but I love them both.”

  As she watched Rosabel walk toward her patrol car at the curb, Penelope glimpsed Mary Lynn getting out her car in the driveway. “What’s going on?” the mayor’s wife called as she came up the walk.

  “She just dropped by.�
��

  “Officially? Through the front door?”

  Penelope deliberated on how much to say. “Come back to the kitchen, and we’ll talk.”

  ****

  “You and Mr. Kelley shouldn’t have gone to Roger’s last night,” Mary Lynn said when Penelope finished filling her in on everything except Tiny.

  “Why not?”

  “You could’ve gotten hurt. Harry says Roger gets a rough crowd in there these days.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “I didn’t think I needed to.”

  “Anyway, Daddy says it was a random shot. A diversion.”

  “And then the police showed up. I can imagine my godson’s reaction to seeing you there.”

  “I was right about those two,” Penelope said, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

  “Okay, you were right, but…”

  “But nothing. Maybe I’ve helped the police. Helped a lot, actually.” She regarded her friend for a few seconds. “Does Harry ever mention any problems around here? Besides Roger’s crowd, I mean.”

  “Sometimes that’s all he talks about. Everybody thinks he’s Solomon and can solve all their problems. Him and the Town Council.”

  “No, I mean about problems from outside. Drugs.”

  Mary Lynn’s eyes darkened. “There is no outside anymore, Pen. Every place is vulnerable.”

  “I haven’t heard about a problem at the high school.”

  “Neither have I, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

  “Roger wouldn’t sell to kids.”

  “Maybe that lace on his drawers is getting a little tattered.”

  Penelope considered the idea. “I hope not.”

  Jake chose that inopportune moment to burst through the back door holding up a Walmart bag and saying, “I got ‘em.” When he saw Mary Lynn, he lowered the bag. “Hello there, Mrs. Mayor.”

  “Hey, Mr. Kelley.”

  “I went shopping,” he said. “Over to the Walmart on the interstate.”

  “Find any bargains?”

  “A few.” He edged toward the door of his apartment. “I’ll talk to you later, Nellie.”

  Penelope cut her eyes back to Mary Lynn, but the woman appeared oblivious to anything out of sync. “We’ve got to plan breakfast menus for next week. I’m booked solid from Thursday through the weekend.”