Up Shute Creek: Rose Gardner Investigation #4
Page 33
“Maybe he was just curious. He wanted to see the woman Skeeter Malcolm is screwin’.”
He was silent for several seconds, and when he finally spoke, his tone was so cold it sent a shiver down my back. “Did he say that?”
This voice scared me so much more than the other. James would never hurt me. But he would mutilate any man who did.
“Not in those exact words. I believe the exact phrase he used was ‘Do you call him Mr. Malcolm while you’re screwin’ him?’ But it’s the same gist.”
“Denny Carmichael is a fucking dead man.”
“And that right there is the reason I didn’t tell you right away. Killin’ Denny Carmichael will get you either killed or thrown in jail, James Malcolm. You know you’re suspect number one if he winds up dead, and you’re so worked up right now, you’re liable to be careless You’re likely to go in guns blazin’.”
“What the hell do you expect me to do, Rose?” he asked in frustration.
“Nothing. I expect you to do absolutely nothing.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kiddin’ me!”
“Why do you think he dragged me there, insulted me, then let me go?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer, because the answer to my question had just hit me in the face. “He’s baitin’ you, James. He’s probably sittin’ in his front yard in a cheap plastic chair drinkin’ his Budweiser with his shotgun on his lap, just waitin’ for you to show up. He’ll kill you before you get close enough to threaten him, let alone do any damage.”
“He insulted you?”
“James. Focus.” My anger mushroomed. “What the heck do you care anyway? I’m just some connivin’ woman tryin’ to trick you into puttin’ a ring on it. Seems to me you’d be thankful Denny Carmichael is takin’ out the trash for you.”
“Rose,” he said in exasperation.
“I’m not ready to speak to you about that little tirade just yet, so we’ll focus on more pressing matters. Promise me you won’t go after Denny Carmichael avengin’ my honor.”
“Do you even understand how it’s gonna look if I don’t retaliate?”
“It’s gonna look like you don’t give a damn. That’s what it’s gonna look like, which is exactly what we want him to think. Now promise me.”
“Rose!”
“Dammit, Skeeter Malcolm, promise me or I’ll drive over to Denny Carmichael’s property right now to stop you. Don’t think I won’t!”
“Fine. I won’t, but I’m tellin’ you right now it’s gonna make me look weak. He knows you’re important to me. If I don’t confront him for mishandlin’ my property, I’m gonna look weak and ineffective.”
My mouth dropped open, and I nearly drove off the road. “Your property?” I shook my head in an attempt to gather my wits. “Are you kiddin’ me? After all the effort I’ve put into makin’ myself look neutral?” Then a new thought hit me. “Oh. My. Word. Have you been goin’ around tellin’ people I’m your property?”
“Rose.”
I hung up, so pissed off that I was afraid I’d drive back to his house and wring his neck if I spent another second on the phone with him.
He tried calling me back, but I declined the call. And the next five. I was too angry to deal with him right now. I needed to calm way down first.
I could see the flashing neon sign for Tiggy’s up ahead. I questioned whether stopping was a good idea, but it was a public place, and I had no intention of asking questions. I merely planned to observe. Joe had closed the case, which meant Neely Kate and I were picking it back up. If Sarah was dead, and it certainly seemed that way, as much as I wanted to deny it, I wouldn’t let her killer get away with it. Maybe I could eavesdrop on a conversation that would give us a place to start looking in the morning.
The parking lot was surprisingly full for a Tuesday night, but I took that as a good sign. Too many witnesses if Digger and Stewie decided to accost me. Plus, I still had my gun.
I could hear the blaring country music before I even walked inside, accompanied by off-key singing that guaranteed it was karaoke night.
I headed straight for an empty stool at the bar, but stood next to it instead of sitting, taking the opportunity to survey the crowd while I waited for the bartender.
A woman wearing a pleather miniskirt and black tube top was on the small stage to the left of the bar, finishing up her cry-in-my-beer country song. Her back was to me, so I couldn’t gauge how old she was.
“Come on, Marsha,” said a woman in the audience, reaching up for her friend. “Let’s get you home.”
Marsha?
I took another look, and the woman turned slightly so that I could see that it was indeed Marsha Freestone on the stage, and judging from the way she was staggering on her platform heels, she was drunker than a skunk.
Had she heard that Joe had questioned Karen and let her go?
“I ain’t goin’ back there,” Marsha said, stumbling backward as she started to cry. “I ain’t goin’ back to the bed he screwed her in.” She turned to the side and shouted, “I’m gonna sing that again.”
Had Marsha found proof that Conrad had molested Sarah?
“You don’t know that he screwed her in your bed,” her friend called up to her. “He could have screwed her in her bed.”
“That’s not any better!” Marsha shouted at her.
Oh, sweet baby Moses. She had. I grabbed my phone and sent a text to Neely Kate.
I’m at Tiggy’s Bar and Marsha’s here, drunk off her butt. I think she found out that Conrad molested Sarah.
The crowd began to hiss and boo. “Get off the stage!”
“You suck!” someone shouted.
Marsha’s tears turned into wails. “I’m not good enough for anybody.”
I watched in horror, wondering if I should intervene or if my presence would make it worse.
Marsha’s friend was now on the stage, trying to coax her off, but Marsha was having none of it. Her friend had snagged her wrist, but Marsha was leaning backward, her body angled into a V. Her friend was much smaller and couldn’t hold her weight, so Marsha fell backward, into a cardboard cutout of a beer bottle with foam spilling out the top, and both Marsha and the cardboard beer fell off the stage and into the crowd.
I was about to run over and help, but the bartender finally came around. “Can I get you something?”
“Uh…” I mumbled, still watching Marsha try to get to her feet.
The bartender glanced toward the commotion next to the stage. “Oh shit. Marsha’s at it again. I’ll be right back.” Then he took off, walking out of the open end of the bar and into the crowd toward the drunk, sobbing woman.
At it again? Did she do this often? But now that he was intervening, I felt better about not stepping in.
My phone vibrated. I expected to find a text from Neely Kate, but instead it was a message from James.
This conversation isn’t over. Call me. NOW.
I sent my phone a glare so powerful I was surprised it didn’t crack the screen. Who the hell did he think he was? Did he really expect me to jump at his command? Oh, that’s right. He thinks I’m his property.
“What did that poor innocent phone do to you?” I heard a familiar voice say, and I glanced up to find myself face-to-face with Stewie Frasier.
Well, crap. I’d hoped to find him and Digger here, but I’d aimed to get the drop on them rather than vice versa. This visit had just taken an unexpected turn. To my surprise, Stewie didn’t look hostile today. If anything, he seemed interested in me. Was it possible he didn’t recognize me? The lighting was bad in here, sure, and I had my hair down tonight, but even so, it seemed unlikely. So what was he on about?
“Sisters,” I said, shaking my head with a grimace. “Mine’s always meddling. You got any sisters?”
He shot me a confused look, then grinned. “Nope. No brothers either. Only child.”
“Lucky,” I said, keeping my tone light. “Where’s the bartender? I could really use a drink.”
St
ewie laughed and gestured toward the stage, where the bartender had gotten Marsha to her feet and was taking her toward a back room. “Looks like he’s got his hands full with Marsha, but he’ll be back in a minute. Maybe I’ll buy you one to make up for getting belligerent the other day.”
So he did recognize me. Interesting.
He leaned his arm on the bar top and gave me a smile that probably wasn’t supposed to look like a leer. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ in a place like this, anyway? I didn’t take you for the type to hang out at a bar all on your own.”
Was he really trying to hit on me? Or was he trying to catch me off guard? From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Digger at a table in the back.
I gave him a sardonic grin. “That line work for you much?”
“Never tried, but I heard it in a movie last week, so I thought I’d give it a shot. How’d I do?”
I gestured to the table where Digger sat with two other girls. Digger was leaning back in his chair, looking despondent while one of the girls rubbed his back. “Maybe you should try it on one of the women at your table.”
“Nah,” he said, leaning further into the bar. “I’ve already bagged them.”
Nice. Time to change the subject. Might as well be forthright. We were in public after all, and I did have my gun if I needed it. “Congratulations, by the way.”
Confusion filled his eyes. “What for? Did my pickup line work after all?”
“Sadly, no. The congratulations is for gettin’ off the hook for murder, which is even better.”
Stewie’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“Haven’t you heard? Karen Peasly—the girl Digger cheated on Sarah with—was taken in for questioning. She confessed.” Okay, so I was stretching the truth a little and omitting the fact she’d been released, but it was worth it if I could get him to talk.
I watched him closely for his reaction. Surprise washed over his face and he leaned into the counter as though he needed it to hold him up. “Karen?”
I lifted my shoulder into a lazy shrug. “We talked to her at the Piggly Wiggly, and she told us she’d messed Sarah up with her switchblade.”
His mouth shifted to one side and he looked impressed. “Damn. I never would have thought Karen had it in her.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, don’t tell Digger. He’ll be upset that the girl he was foolin’ around with killed Sarah. He’s already upset by Marsha’s performance.”
I decided to play dumb. “What was she talkin’ about up there?”
“She didn’t tell you? I thought she hired you to find Sarah.”
I shook my head. “I haven’t heard a thing other than Karen’s confession.”
“She found Sarah’s journal. Turns out the old bastard she’s livin’ with was screwin’ her daughter. Only Sarah wasn’t wantin’ it.”
Journal? Where had Marsha found her journal? Neely Kate and I had searched her room and found nothing. “How’d you find out?”
“She walked in, already drunk, about an hour ago and confronted Digger. Asked him why he didn’t stop Conrad from rapin’ his girlfriend.”
I couldn’t hide my shock. “What did Digger say?”
“He said he didn’t know or he would have kicked the fucker’s ass. He’s already plottin’ what to do when the bastard comes home.”
My eyes widened. “He loved her?”
He seemed to consider it, then said, “I wouldn’t go that far, but he really liked screwin’ her.”
I could see he was trying to get a reaction out of me, but I just made a face that suggested it was a legit reason and turned to the bartender as he walked over to us.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “That Marsha…”
“Does she do this often?” I asked.
“Every month or so, when she finds out her boyfriend’s foolin’ around on her, but tonight’s a doozy, even for her. Turns out her man’s been screwing her own daughter, right under her nose.”
“It was rape,” I said in a harsher tone than I’d intended. “If Sarah didn’t want it, then it was rape, and someone needs to call the Sugar Branch police.” But that would likely be a waste of time. I’d be better off telling Joe and seeing what he could do about it.
The bartender shot me a surprised look and held up his hands. “Not my business, but if it was rape, then I feel bad about…” He shook his head. “Never mind. What can I get you to drink? It’s three-dollar-beer night.”
“The lady will take a beer,” Stewie said. “Make it two and put them both on my tab.”
“You really don’t have to do that,” I said.
He lifted his own bottle in salute. “Like I said, I feel bad about the other day. Besides, you brought me good news. It’s the least I can do.” Then he drained the last of his bottle and set it on the counter with a loud thud.
He seemed genuine in his relief, and even though he was putting off skeevy vibes, I didn’t think he’d killed Sarah. Might as well find out for sure.
With no explanation, I put my hand on his arm and asked, What does Stewie know about Sarah’s disappearance?
The room faded, and suddenly I was in Nina’s dark living room, pacing the floor while Digger sobbed on the sofa.
“Get yourself together, dude. You’re cryin’ like a girl.”
Nina stood in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning into the doorjamb. Tears streamed down her face. “Leave him alone, Stewie. He loved her.” Anger filled her eyes. “Call your cousin.”
“Johnnie ain’t gonna do nothin’ if it don’t make him or Flem any money. I done told you that.”
“They’re supposed to be the goddamned police!” Nina shouted. “Tell your cousin to do his damned job!”
Digger looked up, his face red and wet with tears and snot. A grim determination filled his eyes as he got to his feet and pulled out his pocket knife. “We don’t need them. We’ll kill the bastard ourselves.”
“Conrad ain’t even home, you fool,” Nina spat in disgust. “He’s down in Louisiana.”
Digger’s jaw tightened, and his gaze looked deadly. “Then we’ll find him.”
The vision cleared, giving way to the noisy bar, as I blurted out, “You’re gonna find him.”
Stewie’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
The bartender placed our beers on the bar.
“Sorry, I changed my mind.” I turned to Stewie. “Give my beer to Digger. Looks like he needs it more than I do.”
“Hey! Why’re you runnin’ off?” Stewie shouted after me. “We were just gettin’ started.”
Someone needed to put him in his place, but it wouldn’t be me. Not tonight, anyway, I had a case to solve. I headed out to my truck and pulled out my phone, placing a call to Joe.
“Rose? Everything all right?” he asked, sounding out of breath.
“Who the hell is callin’ at this time of night?” I heard Dena say in the background. “Tell them it can wait!”
I hadn’t thought about jealous Dena being with him. “I’m sorry to bother you this late, but it’s important.”
“What’s goin’ on?” He sounded more alert.
“I’m at Tiggy’s Bar in Sugar Branch and found out a couple of things you need to know.”
“What the hell are you doin’ at Tiggy’s? Is Neely Kate with you?”
“Is that Rose?” Dena screeched in the background.
I felt sorry for Joe but not enough to regret calling him. “No, I’m alone, but Marsha Free—”
“What are you doin’ there alone?” he demanded.
I pushed out a frustrated sigh. “Dammit, Joe. Will you listen to me? This is important.”
He took a deep breath, then said, “What did you find out?”
“First, Marsha supposedly found her daughter’s journal. She found out that Conrad was sleepin’ with Sarah, and she was drunk on the stage, wailing about it.”
“Why do I need to know her of-age daughter was havin’ sex with her boyfriend?”
“You want me to look at the journal?” He paused. “I’ll look into it tomorrow, but I’m not guaranteein’ I can do anything about it.”
“There’s more. I ran into Stewie Frasier, our number one suspect. He said Digger was upset about finding out about Conrad, and I got the vibe that neither of them were involved in her disappearance.”
Joe pushed out a sigh. “I can’t go off a vibe, Rose.”
“I know. That’s why I had a vision. Stewie, Digger, and Nina were talkin’ about tryin’ to get the Sugar Branch police involved, but Stewie said they’d only help out if they could make money from it. So Digger said he was takin’ matters into his own hands and he was goin’ after Conrad. They were wearing the same clothes I just saw them in. They’re goin’ tonight.”
“I guess I can send a deputy to warn Conrad and check out the security of his house.”
“He’s not home, Joe. He’s in Louisiana travelin’ for work, only I don’t know where.”
I saw two women walk around the back of the bar, headed in my direction. The parking lot was poorly lit, but one of them was wearing a miniskirt and staggering in a way that told me it was Marsha.
“Marsha just walked out the back of the bar,” I said, heading toward her. “I’ll call you back after I find out where Conrad is and where she put the journal.”
“After you’re done, get the hell out of there, Rose. I have a bad feelin’ about all of this.”
I did too, but I still needed to see this through. “Okay. Call you in a few minutes.”
I hung up and glanced at my screen, seeing I had a couple of missed texts. Marsha was still half the length of the building away, so I checked the messages.
I wasn’t surprised to see they were from James.
If you don’t answer me, I’m coming to you. We ARE talking about this.
Then:
Why the fuck are you at Tiggy’s????
How in the world did he know where I was? Then it hit me. He’d put a tracker app on my phone without my knowledge.
I’d deal with that later.