by W L Knightly
“As it turns out, I won’t be in town much longer.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is. You’re trying to rush me along. What’s the matter, Daddy? Did you knock up some poor unsuspecting woman last night, and now you have to skip town in a hurry?” That was what he’d done to her mother. Why not another woman? There was no telling how many siblings she had across the Pacific Northwest.
“I’d appreciate a little respect, Josephine.”
The sound of her full name on his lips sent her nerves on edge, as if he’d just written it on a squeaky blackboard with a hard piece of chalk.
The only way to get him off her back was to agree to go. “What’s this place called?”
“Olivia’s Bakehouse. You’ll love the pie.”
“Coconut cream?” She thought of Speed’s and how good it was again. She could go for a slice, even if it was from a different place. “Sure, I’ll meet you there.”
She ended the call, went to the self-checkout area, and paid for the few items she had. She hadn’t gotten much shopping done and would have to stop by another time. She wanted to get the breakfast with her father over with, and hopefully, he’d leave town again and not give her any problems about the new job.
She went to her house, put the few groceries away, and jumped in the shower for the quickest rinse of her life. Then she dried her hair, leaving it flat, and after throwing on one of her cotton dresses and a pair of flats, she did her makeup in the car on the way to Olivia’s Bakehouse, where parking was terrible.
Olivia’s Bakehouse was a big, bright blue building. There were flowers out front and big, beautiful cakes and desserts in the curtained windows, as if the place were out of a storybook.
She went inside and found her father tucked in the back corner of the place, his face in the local real estate paper. He didn’t bother looking up until she sat down. “Hey, Dad.”
She smoothed out her dress as he smiled across the table at her, wearing his dark glasses.
“You are sure a sight for sore eyes, my gorgeous girl.” He sucked air in through his teeth, and she’d always hated that sound, as if she were some girlfriend who he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into instead of his daughter. “Boy, I do make pretty girls.”
She ignored the comment, wondering how many other daughters he had in his life. Her mother had already told her he had other children, but she had not had the desire to learn anything about them. She’d only gotten to know him in the past few months, and all the years before that, he had been a myth. Nothing more than an anonymous donor to her until her mother finally could tell her who he was. She was saved by the waitress who walked up wearing a tight outfit and a fake slice of cake on her head. Jo tried hard not to stare at it as she looked at her.
“What can I get for you two?”
“I’ll have a coffee and a slice of coconut cream pie,” Jo said. Her phone rang, and seeing her father’s frown, she reached into her purse and silenced it.
“We don’t have any coconut pie,” said the woman. “We have coconut cake if you like, or apple, peach, and cherry pie.”
“Bring me a slice of your cherry,” said her father, looking the woman up and down.
Jo wanted to die when the girl’s face turned red and she giggled at her father who was no doubt eye-fucking her behind his glasses. Jo wanted to crawl in a hole.
“You should try the apple, Jo. I had it last time I came in here.”
Jo had a feeling the two knew each other from the the way they smiled at each other. “I’ll just have a slice of that coconut cake, thanks.”
“Sure thing,” said the woman. She gave Jo’s father a lingering look, and when she walked away, he chuckled.
“Don’t seem so uncomfortable. Your old man can’t help it if he still has game.”
“Could you spare me? If anyone saw you—”
“Relax,” he said with a harsh tone. “It’s fine. I just thought we could talk and you could tell me how the job is going.”
“It’s fine. The case is fine, and I’m good. Thanks.” She wasn’t going to be made to feel like she’d gotten the job because of him each and every time they spoke.
“What about your chief? What’s his name? O’Connor?”
“Yes, Chief O’Connor. As if you forgot.” She shook her head. “He’s doing good too. He has taken a leave of absence. He’ll be back soon. I really like him.”
“What about the replacement? Do you like her too?”
Jo got the sinking feeling that her father had something to do with the new chief’s appointment. He had power to make things happen, and it was highly possible he had done that. “I haven’t gotten to know her.”
“Well, maybe you should. You know how those temporary chiefs have a way of sticking around.” They’d both seen it happen in her old department.
“Yeah.” She didn’t want to dignify anything her father said with too much of a response.
“So, I hear this Hangman has been pretty brutal. Are you handling it okay?”
“Yes, fine.” She really was too. As much as she could, anyway. But she had a feeling it was because of Jake.
“When is that other detective leaving?”
“I don’t know. With any luck, he’ll stay. He’s really a nice guy and good at his job. I’m learning a lot.” Mostly about him, but she wanted to talk him up to her father.
“Yeah, well, if he sticks around, then how are you ever going to make the top spot?” Her father’s tone was one of disappointment, but she had come to expect that in the short time he’d been in her life. He was so competitive that she had a feeling the only reason he’d wanted to meet her was to tell her to push Jake out of his position.
“We work well together, and all I want to do is solve the cases.” She smiled as the waitress placed a huge piece of cake in front of her.
Her father took his pie and gave the waitress a wink. “While he sits back and gets all of the glory?”
“Well, maybe I’ll solve the Hangman case. It’s shaping up to be a big case. High-profile victims, and the media’s involved. Who knows? It could lead to better things.” Not that she wanted to go anywhere. She sipped her coffee.
“You be careful with that one. I hear he’s a real son of a bitch.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” she said. “He’s not the first son of a bitch I’ve dealt with.” She stabbed her piece of cake and looked him dead in the eyes.
Chapter 21
Chief O’Connor
After a couple of hours of fishing and only catching one fish worth keeping, O’Connor stopped off at the liquor store on his way home for a bottle of his favorite cheap vodka.
He walked into the store, made a beeline for the shelf, and quickly made his way to the counter where the clerk was lost in a news report. He looked up just in time to see the graphic behind the reporter read “HANGMAN” in bold red letters, but he’d only caught the ass end of the report.
“Can you believe that monster?” asked the clerk. “How’s it going, Chief? Are you and your men going after that scumbag?” He looked down at the bottle of liquor and punched a few buttons on his register. “I hope you catch him before he does that shit to anyone else. He’s a sick mother fucker, that one.”
“Yeah, we’re doing all we can. He’s a sneaky bastard.” He felt a little bit like a liar, not being on the case at all, but he wasn’t going to tell the man about his time off or what had brought it on.
“Well, you better hurry. He’s liable to kill another one of your men. Or maybe another judge. Pretty soon, there won’t be any law left around here. I guess it’s a good thing he kills only certain people in the legal profession. That means the rest of us are safe.” He gave a chuckle. “You should stay careful, Chief. He might just come after you.”
O’Connor shivered with chills down his spine as he handed the man the money. He grabbed his bottle from the counter and hurried out. Shutting himself in his car, he caught his breath for a moment and tried to calm down. There was no sense in flaking out now.
He knew that soon enough, he’d get the word that the Hangman was dead, and the case would be solved, and everything could go back to how it was before.
He drove home and parked the car just outside of the garage. He walked into the house and tucked his keys into his pocket before busting the label on the bottle and taking a drink. There was no one around to tell him to use a glass, so he decided, why bother? With any luck, he’d be celebrating soon and would finish the bottle by the end of the night. Or at least put one hell of a dent in it.
He took another sip, deciding he better pace himself. If Jake came back around, he didn’t want to be shit-faced again. This time, he’d be ready for the little shit and his game of twenty questions.
He walked to his recliner and placed the drink down on the coaster his wife had made for him at a crafting retreat. Then he grabbed his remote and turned on the television, hoping to catch another game.
He had to take his mind off of it all and hoped that between sports and alcohol, something would do the trick. He hadn’t talked to Callie yet, and they had a call planned for later that day, but only because she and her sister had decided to go to a flea market.
He wished all he had to worry about was how much money she spent there or what kind of awful, ugly, shabby, chic décor she would drag home in her suitcase, or worse, have shipped home through the mail. She was always falling in love with something while she was away that would cost twice as much as it was worth to send home, but he’d always agreed to it, knowing it made her happy.
He hoped that if he got through this, and with her time away, that things would change for them. He wanted to show her how he appreciated her more, and when he called her baby, he didn’t want it to come as a surprise.
As he went through the channels, he heard a sound in the back of the house, a creaking board he’d meant to fix months ago but had never found the time. His reaction time was a bit slow, but he realized there had to be someone in his house. He reached down beside his chair to the place he kept his gun, and when he didn’t find it right away, he panicked and glanced down to the empty space where he usually kept it.
He must have moved it. He looked across the room toward the corner behind the front entry where he had stashed his rifle, and it was gone too. “Motherfucker!”
He was about to get out of his chair when the Hangman entered the room and came at him with a needle. He slid down instead, jumping up from the floor only to reach out and grab the Hangman’s arm as he swung it again.
They tussled a bit, and O’Connor decided to use the coffee table and jerked the Hangman in that direction, sending him over it as he tripped. Callie would get him good for that one if he survived, but not wanting to stick around and ask if he was okay, the chief ran into the hall and went for his other gun. It too was missing, and by that time, the Hangman was coming after him.
O’Connor grabbed the nearest thing he could use as a weapon, a heavy vase he’d bought Callie on one of their vacations. It was heavy as fuck, and thank God for that. He swung it and hit the Hangman, throwing him off balance, and then he took the chance to hit him through his stupid hood, which made it hard to tell where his fist would connect. He wanted a good chin shot, one that would knock the motherfucker out, but he couldn’t connect that well.
The blow did send the Hangman to the floor again, and O’Connor took off into the dark garage where he went around behind Callie’s Christmas boxes she kept in storage and hid a moment while considered his next move.
After a few minutes, he had to wonder if the man was gone. Had he run out the back door? He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back inside the house to check. He had to keep his wits about him and tried to remember what he had in the shop that he could use for a weapon. He would have to do something, and obviously, any guns were out of the question.
The Hangman must have gone through the entire house while he was gone and had already removed all of his firearms. He wasn’t sure what to do next. The best he had in the garage was a broom, and unless he could manage to get some force behind it or hit him in just the right spot, that would not be successful. The Hangman was even bigger than he’d heard about. O’Connor was proud he’d given him a run for his money, but he realized he didn’t have his phone to call for backup.
He felt of his pocket, and when he realized he had his keys, he made his way to the door of the garage and took a deep breath when he looked out. The coast was clear.
Still, he hurried to his car and jumped inside, putting the key into the ignition before he ever had the door closed. He slammed it shut, and then as he turned to look behind, a dark figure was in the seat behind him, and the needle was already in his neck. The slow burn of the sedative blurred his senses, and his vision faded. The last thing he remembered was the Hangman letting out a terrible laugh.
Chapter 22
Jake
After going home and putting up his gear, Jake decided to go back to Speed’s for a late breakfast, which was really more like an early lunch. He walked in, smelling like fresh soap from his shower, and he eased into a booth and looked around for Ruth Anne, who must have been on break or in the back.
He glanced down at his phone and wished that Jo would call him back. Surely, she had seen the missed call and would return it as soon as she could. She had to be waiting for information, but then again, she might be busy with something. He didn’t want to keep on her, and after the night before, he just wanted to give her space. At least from one end of the couch to the other. He still couldn’t believe she had stayed in there with him, and he was fairly certain that he’d drifted off before her.
He hoped her decision to stay wasn’t a pity move, knowing he had nightmares. Although he had to admit, if he had been woken by one, she was the one person he’d want to wake up to.
Ruth Anne walked out of the back, tying on her apron and straightening her little hat. She pulled her pen out of her apron and clicked the thing to produce the point, which she held to her pad. “What’s it going to be, Jake? I’d say I know, but you’re in here at an odd time. Are you trying to throw me for a loop or something?”
“Or something,” he said. “I’ve had an unusual morning, and now I can’t make up my mind between breakfast or lunch.” Waking up with Jo so near to him and then taking a fishing trip that ended abruptly had been in its own category of weird.
“Breaking up the monotony is good. You’ve been in a rut too long as it is.” She pointed her pen at him. “Although I will say, eating every meal at Speed’s is a rut I hope you stay in.”
“Don’t worry, although Jo did make me a mean frozen lasagna, and I ate pizza the other night.”
She gave him a dirty look. “At least those aren’t on the menu here. That girl just might be the best thing that’s happened to you.”
“Now, don’t go getting any ideas, Ruth Anne. We’re just friends and partners.” He didn’t know who he was trying to convince, Ruth Anne or himself.
She gave him a smug smile. “You keep telling yourself that. You just might believe it.”
Jake held out his hands. “Are you going to take my order or keep giving me grief?”
“I’ve not begun to give you grief. But speaking of, how’s the case going?” He gave her a pointed look, and she held up her hands in defense. “Hey, you know I wouldn’t normally ask you about your business, but I get asked several times a day to ask you.”
“It’s going okay, and that’s all you or anyone else needs to know.” He had only talked to her about cases on his own terms, and while he appreciated the bent ear in those times, he didn’t want her talking to others about what was going on with the Hangman case at such a sensitive time.
“Fine. I’ll tell the grapevine. I just hope they don’t go sour on me.”
“You tell them to take it up with me,” he said, shaking his fist. “Anyway, I think I’ll have a fried egg burger with fries.”
“Well, there’s nothing like a compromise. I know just how you like this one made. Well done on the burg
er and the egg, mayonnaise, grill the onions.” She jotted down his order and carried it back to the cook.
Jake loved the old woman, and she was probably one of the only people he knew who knew him better than anyone else. She could remember his orders no matter how complicated. He wished he had a memory like hers as he glanced down at his phone. Before he could be too upset that he still hadn’t heard from Jo, something hit him.
“Ruth Anne,” he whispered. He looked up, and the woman was coming back out of the kitchen with his drink, and when she placed it on the table, Jake took her hand. “Ruth Anne, I have to ask you something.”
She looked down at his hand holding hers. “If it’s a proposal, honey, you’re a little too young, and I’m a little too set in my ways.”
“It’s about the cases I’ve worked on. Could you take a break?”
She looked over her shoulder and then slid into the booth with him. “That’s one of the perks of owning half of this place. I can do what the hell I want when I want. What’s this all about? The Hangman?”
“If I talk to you, you’ve got to swear to me this goes no further. No updating the patrons on the latest.”
Ruth Anne held up her hand and placed the other on his. “I swear it.”
“I worked a case years ago. There was a woman and her young daughter killed.”
Ruth Anne nodded. “Yes, I remember that. It was all over the news. That senator’s son was on trial for that murder. You caught him yourself.”
“That’s it. The senator’s son.” He closed his eyes. “I knew it was a person in power.”
“I can’t believe you’d forget that,” said Ruth Anne, giving him a sideward look.
“There are some things I don’t like to remember. That case was one of them. It was horrific, and I have sort of a mental block. It comes back to me in dreams at times. Bits and pieces. I wake up, and now I don’t sleep well.”
“Well, I’ve always known that. I guess your conscious mind is trying to protect you. Our minds are powerful.”