Two for Flinching

by Todd Morgan

  Dad asked, “Do you get many timeouts?”

  “No, sir.” She fiercely shook her head. “I don’t like timeouts.”

  “Me either.”

  “Silly G-Pop.” She rolled her eyes. So much like her mother. “Grownups don’t get timeouts.”

  G-Pop. If I had ever called him something like that, he would’ve slapped me halfway to Jesus. “I ran into Andy Chen today.”

  “Yeah? I always liked that boy. He still making book?”

  “You have friend who makes books, daddy?”

  “More of your Uncle Gus’s friend than mine.”

  “What kind of books does he make?”

  “You need to ask Uncle Gus about that,” I said. “I also saw Luther the other day.”

  Dad frowned. “How was he?”

  Drunk, down in the dumps because his wife left him. “About the same.”

  “Some things never change.”

  We finished, Sarah covered in barbeque sauce. Erin said, “I’ve got to go out and…study. Sarah, you want to take a quick shower with me?”

  “Yea!” She jumped from her chair and tore through the kitchen.

  “Baby?” I called after her.

  She came back. “What?”

  I gave her the look.

  “Sir?”

  “What do we do with our plate?”

  Another roll of the eyes. Where do they learn that? She took her plate to the counter before going upstairs with Erin. Dad and I set about cleaning up the kitchen. He did the rinsing while I did the loading.

  “You gotta hand wash this pot?”

  “I wouldn’t have a pot you can’t put in the dishwasher.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “You know Melvin Jenks?” I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but if you can’t talk to your father, who can you talk to?

  “The bank president?”

  Not a shock. Dad knew everybody. “He’s getting a divorce.”

  “Which side are you on?”

  “Both.”

  He stopped scrubbing the cookie sheet. “How’s that?”

  I told him about being hired by the wife’s lawyer and then Melvin coming to me for marital advice. He shook his head. “Anything else?”

  I took a deep breath. Thirty-three years old and I still couldn’t lie to the man. “Amber Noble is missing. I’m looking for her.”

  His head swung around. “Your neighbor?”

  “Yeah.” Then quickly added, “I think she ran out on her husband.”

  “Steven?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He hire you?”

  Close enough. “Yeah.”

  “Hope he paid you up front. I got a buddy did some work for him six months back. He’s having to take him to small claims court.”

  I took the cookie sheet from him and found a spot for it.

  “Did he?”

  “Well.”

  He handed me the last plate and dried his hand on a towel. “Spill it, son.”

  “I was uh…sorta seeing her.” So much for not disappointing him.

  “Amber?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your neighbor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Steven Noble’s wife?”

  I nodded.

  He crossed his arms and shook his head. That simple shake. “After everything with Stella?”

  “I know.”

  He closed his eyes. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess…I guess I wanted to see how it felt to be the other man.”

  He opened his eyes and resumed the head shaking. “So? How did it feel?”

  “Terrible.”

  He looked at me. I withered under his gaze.

  “I know, dad. I’m sorry. I made a terrible mistake.”

  Not the first time he had heard that line.

  “Son.”

  “Sometimes I feel like I’m under so much pressure, like I’ve got the weight of the world on my shoulders. Raising a daughter alone.”

  “You’ve got Erin.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “No,” he said, softening. “It’s not.”

  “And I’m not bringing in any money. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  Guilt crossed his face. “You know, with your momma and all, I can’t help much, but—“

  I held out my hands. “No, no. I’ll think of something. You’ve done plenty.”

  “You could come live with me.”

  I smiled. “Thanks. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Let’s.” He smiled, too. A little. “Maybe you could do something else.”

  “Like what? Soldiering was the only thing I was good at and it’s not like I can take Sarah with me.”

  “You were a good cop.”

  “I was a terrible cop.”

  “That’s not what Luther says.”

  “The work was okay. I couldn’t handle the politics. It was only a matter of time until I lost it.”

  “Isn’t that what you said about Iraq and Afghanistan? The military politics? The politics with the tribal leaders? Walking on egg shells, not knowing who you could trust?”

  “Yeah, but I go to shoot some of them.”

  He shook his head, lightly this time, smiling. “You always loved to fight.”

  “For all the good it did me.”

  “That martial arts fighting is taking off.”

  I gave him a look. “I’m too old to get into that.”

  “Yes, but you could open a gym. Teach.”

  “What would I call it? It’s all run together. Yoshikia, Tae Kwon Do, Kenpo, Brazilian jujitsu. Plus, what they teach you in the Rangers.”

  “When did you take Brazilian jujitsu?”

  “When I was in Japan.”

  “You took Brazilian jujitsu in Japan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sounds like the definition of mixed martial arts to me.”

  “Maybe, but not in a market like Chickasaw Falls.”

  “Could be in Birmingham.”

  “No,” I said. “Sarah has been through enough. I can’t drag her away from her friends and her family. Besides, startups take money.”

  “My credit is still good. For now. I could cosign with you.”

  “I appreciate the offer, dad. I’ll think of something.”

  “What you need to do is find a woman.”

  “I found Amber.”

  For a second, I thought he was going to lose it. Finally, he grinned. “A single woman. You need to go to church. Lot of good looking women in church.”

  “I thought you wanted me to stay away from married women.”

  He punched me on the shoulder.

  Erin came into the kitchen, her hair still damp, smelling of perfume. She went up on her tiptoes and kissed her grandfather on the cheek. “Gotta run, G-Pop. Love you.”

  The other detective in the room said, “You’re forgetting something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your books. Didn’t you say you had to go study?”

  She blushed and pushed through the door.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Hello.”

  “Hey. What are you doing?”

  “Watching television.”

  “You want to go have some fun?”

  “Where—“ I stopped. It wasn’t Amber. The voice was close and maybe subconsciously I had been expecting her call. “Who is this?”

  “Madison Hogan.” A little of the devil in her voice. “Who did you think it was? My sister?”

  Hoping. For the first time, I realized I missed her. “Where are you?”

  “In the neighborhood.”

  “What are you doing in Chickasaw Falls?”

  “I got bored and drove down. I thought you could take me out for a drink and some laughs.”

  “I can’t. My daughter is sleeping.”

  “Where is your niece?”

  Don’t sisters keep anything private? “Out
.”

  “That works for me. I’m in your driveway. Open the door.”

  I started to object, but she had already hung up. I dropped the easy chair and shoved my feet into the sneakers. Blondie gave me a hopeful look as her tail began thumping on the couch. I opened the front door and there she was, dressed to kill in a fur lined jacket, makeup artfully applied, tall black boots. The devil was in her eyes, too.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  She slid by me and I closed the door. Blondie came running and jumping. Madison knelt on one knee, scratching the dog behind her ears, letting the big lug bath her in kisses. She stood, in what had once been the dining room, now overrun with a child’s toys. She began walking through my home, inspecting the pictures on the walls. There were quite a few holes. Holes that had once been filled with pictures of Stella. Stella alone, Stella and Sarah as a baby. Stella and me.

  “This your daughter?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cute. Who are all these other kids?”

  “Nephews and nieces.” I took her by the elbow and guided her to the kitchen.

  Madison stopped, sniffing the air. “Boy, you don’t let the grass grow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That is definitely not Amber’s perfume.”

  “My niece.”

  “Sick, Beason. You know that?”

  I shook my head. “You want something to drink?”

  “Sure. How about a beer?”

  I opened the fridge, took out a Naked Pig and popped the top for her.

  “Aren’t you going to have one?”

  I generally reserved beer for cooking out, sticking with my trusted rum and coke for general drinking. Since I had abstained earlier for the sake of my father, I reached back in for a beer of my own. “Come on.” I opened the door the back deck. Blondie charged out.

  “Kind of cold, ain’t it?”

  Exactly. I didn’t want this visit to drag. “Sarah is a light sleeper.”

  Madison sat at the outdoor table—in my chair—and I had to take the one across from her. “You care if I smoke?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  Flame flared in the darkness. “I only smoke when I drink.”

  “So you’re down to a pack a day?”

  She laughed, choking a little on the Marlboro. “Amber told me about the pool.” The glint in her eyes was lit by the embers. “You guys ever do it out here on the deck?”

  I felt my face warm. “Why are you here, Madison?”

  “I was sitting at home all alone and wanted to get out of the house.”

  “Why are you here?”

  She sucked on the cigarette, the corners of her mouth mischievously twitching. “Didn’t Amber tell you? We’ve always gone for the same type of man. In high school, we used to trade boyfriends.”

  “That must have made for some interesting conversations.”

  “Oh yes,” she informed me, “it was great. It really cut down on time wasted.”

  “Time wasted?”

  “On which guy was a dud and which one could make you squeal.”

  I drank some of my beer. A lot of it, actually. “How did you know where I lived?”

  “Duh. You live next door to my sister. I thought you were a detective.”

  It was too cold to be outside and I hadn’t put on a jacket. The moon and stars were hidden behind the clouds. Blondie chased after something, then tromped up the deck to lick Madison’s hand.

  “I’ve heard about that couch. What do you say? I’ll do my best to keep the squealing to a minimum.”

  Those damn Hogan women.

  “No promises, though.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hannah Strange’s beauty shop was tucked in the corner of a fairly small shopping center. Or centre as the sign said. A two chair shop, Hannah was working on an elderly woman, the other beautician sitting in her chair reading a magazine. The blue haired lady said, “Beason Camp.”

  “Mrs. Washburn.”

  “How’s your daddy?”

  “Busy as a one legged man in a…butt kicking contest.”

  “How about your momma?”

  I shook my head. Hannah walked around the chair. “Clete die yet?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  She circled me, professionally appraising my head of hair. “He still charging ten dollars a cut?”

  “He was two weeks ago.”

  Hanna nodded sadly. “Price is about right. Let me finish with Mrs. Washburn and I’ll see what I can do to fix it.”

  “Actually,” I said, “I need to talk to Mary.”

  Mary reluctantly put down her magazine and rose from the chair. She was young, in her mid-twenties, her hair sprayed in what must have passed for stylish angles.

  Hanna said, “You finally leave that butcher of a barbershop and won’t let me cut your hair?”

  “Not until you put one of those striped poles out front,” I said. “I need to talk to her. I don’t need a haircut.”

  Hannah shrugged. “If you say so.”

  Mary said, “I don’t have an appointment for another hour. Is it okay if I talk to your boyfriend?”

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “Make sure you use protection.”

  Mrs. Washburn giggled.

  I winked at them both and Mary and I went outside. It was another cold, grey, day and I pulled the leather jacket tighter. Starbucks had reached our small corner of civilization, though, our town of forty thousand was underserved with only two locations. We pushed into one and after a little time explaining what I wanted, I got a black coffee. Mary ordered a cocoa mocha soy latte or something. I paid and we took a high two topper.

  “You don’t look surprised to see me.”

  “Steven told me you might be around.”

  “He tell you I was looking for Amber?”

  “Yeah.”

  I waited. She sipped from her laden concoction. “You have any idea where I should look?”

  “No.”

  “When was the last time you talked to her?”

  “Last Wednesday.”

  “She ever mention her and Steven having problems?”

  “No.”

  “Anything about taking a trip?”

  “No.”

  I was missing something. “How long have you been friends?”

  “A year? Year and a half?”

  “Where did you meet?”

  “The restaurant. I was waiting tables while I was working on my beautician’s degree.”

  “Got to be pretty good friends?”

  “I guess.”

  “How often did you get together?”

  “Uh.” She thought about it. “We didn’t have a regular thing. We’d just, you know, call each other once in a while. Hang out at the restaurant.”

  “You talked to her last Wednesday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where?”

  “What?”

  “Not what. Where did you talk to her last Wednesday? The restaurant? On the phone?”

  “Oh. On the phone.”

  “You call her or she call you?”

  “What is this?” For some reason, Mary had gone defensive. “Twenty questions or something?”

  “Or something.” I sipped my coffee. I like it hot, but this could give a man third degree burns. “She disappeared and I’m trying to find her. To do that, I have to ask her friends questions.”

  “Oh.” She tried her drink. When she put it down, she had a little whipped cream mustache. It made her look even younger, childlike.

  “So…”

  “So what?”

  “So did she call you or did you call her?”

  Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “I called her.”

  “On her cell?”

  “Yeah.”

  I was having a hard time seeing Mary and Amber having a lot in common. “How well do you know Steven?”

  “He was, you know, my bos
s?”

  “How long have you been working with Hannah?”

  She hesitated, not seeing where I was going. “Six months.”

  “And you still talk to your ex-boss?”

  Mary shook her head. In the negative or to clear it, I couldn’t tell. “Not much.”

  “You said he told you I might be around.”

  “Yeah. He, uh, called, wanting to know if I had heard from Amber.”

  “And you told him you had called her?”

  She nodded firmly. Back on solid ground. “Last Wednesday.”

  I drank more coffee, somehow avoiding serious injury.

  Mary said, “I don’t know what the problem is.”

  I decided to go with the detective’s best friend. The bluff. “I have Amber’s cell bills.” It wasn’t much of a bluff. I had a bunch of stuff from Steven back at the office and figured the cell bill had to be in there. However, they were back at my office and I had no idea what calls might or might not have been made or received last Wednesday.

  Mary paled. “It could’ve been her house phone.”

  I put on my disbelieving face. “What do you think about Steven?”

  “He has always been nice to me.”

  “I bet.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Look, I gotta get back.”

  “Forty-five minutes until your next appointment.”

  “We, uh, you know, get a lot of walk-ins.”

  “Sure.” She stood, taking the five dollar coffee that wasn’t coffee with her. “Mary.”

  She stopped, giving me a cautious look.

  “I’ll be back.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Zac Brown Band and I drove through Chickasaw Falls to my office. I had a nagging feeling that something in that stack I had received from Steven was missing. Something important.

  Big Bird’s partner was waiting for me in the middle of the sock factory lot. His crew neck sweater was tucked into the blue jeans, a brown toboggan over his head. He wasn’t wearing a coat.

  I parked the Jeep at the far end, not my usual spot in the handicapped space, breaking the pattern. I took the Colt out and put it in the pocket of my leather jacket. As I got out, I paid him absolutely no attention. It was obvious he was unarmed, except for maybe a piece hidden in an ankle holster, and if that was the case, I could plug him four ways from Sunday before he could get to it. The real threat was Starling and I didn’t see him. From what I could tell about the pair, if they were going to set a trap, Big Bird would have made for a better distraction, his partner the shooter. The partner had set off alarm bells since the first time we met.