1 Target of Death

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1 Target of Death Page 8

by Madison Johns


  “No. Sorry that I can’t help you more. I feel just awful that someone lured him into the woods like that.”

  “What makes you think that?” I asked. “You just said that you didn’t know him outside of here.”

  “I don’t, but the girls at Curls and Cuts seemed to know more details about Clayton’s death earlier today when I had my hair appointment.”

  “Like what?” I asked, squeezing Margarita’s hand, hoping she’d let me handle the questioning.

  “Someone called Clayton and asked him to meet them in the woods. Whoever it was must have killed him. I can’t believe someone shot him with an arrow like that, but with an archery competition so close, I can see how that might happen.”

  I tried not to take that personally. “What in the world does that have to do with it?”

  “Just that those archery nut jobs are probably out there practicing.”

  “From my knowledge, there are plenty of bow hunters in Michigan. That hardly makes them loons. Archery is a sport like any other.”

  “Except that they shoot a deadly weapon,” Dixie clarified.

  “Anyone could have lured him out there. I bet whoever did the deed isn’t even an avid bow hunter or on the competition circuit. Do you know anyone else who might be of any help to us?”

  “Yes,” Margarita began. “Did Clayton get lap dances from any other strippers?”

  “For the most part it was only me, but go ahead and question the other strippers.” With that she strutted away, heading for the bar. The bartender who Cindy identified began whispering in Cindy’s ear. I had no idea what they might be talking about, but it didn’t appear to be hostile. We questioned the other strippers, but none of them remembered much about Clayton besides that Cindy danced for him. None of them were vocal about the possibility of Cindy spending time with Clayton outside of Hank’s Hotspot, but they did supply us with the bartender’s full name, Troy Akins.

  We left and headed back to the restaurant soon after. We wobbled inside and went our separate ways. I was too tired to even come up with a game plan for tomorrow. I snuggled into my pillow, lulled to sleep by the sounds of Dixie’s heavy breathing. It sounded like whistling as she slept.

  Chapter Eight

  In the morning, Dixie and I congregated at the counter of the restaurant. I poked at the eggs on my plate as Margarita counted out money, then slipped the pile of bills back into the cash register.

  “How well did you do yesterday?” I asked.

  “Great. One of the best days I’ve had in ten years.”

  That brought a smile to my face. I was happy that Margarita had fared well with our Cajun recipes. “That’s wonderful. I suppose you plan to stay at the restaurant all day, which is great, but Dixie and I plan to go to Curls and Cuts today. I’d sure like to verify the story Cindy told us.”

  Margarita clucked her tongue. “Not so fast. I have plenty of help to oversee the restaurant while I’m gone.”

  “But I thought the owner, Patsy McNalley, stole your husband?”

  “Exactly, and that’s why I’m going. I think it’s about time that I quit worrying about running into her.”

  “Why did you do that?” Dixie asked with a tilt of her head.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I was ashamed. I mean the entire town knows what happened ... you know, my husband fooling around with Patsy and him leaving me for her.”

  “So he was the one who ended it?” I asked. “I wouldn’t blame you if were the one to throw him out.”

  “Actually, I did sort of tell him to leave, but I had no idea that he’d really do it.”

  “How surprised were you when he went after his half of the restaurant?”

  “Very. I inherited the restaurant from my parents, but we were married for twenty years and he was entitled to his share.”

  “There wasn’t anyone you trusted enough to buy the business?”

  “Oh, no. I don’t think that’d be the best of ideas. You just can’t get away with things like that in this day and age.”

  “I knew a woman who did that. She sold her house to her sister so her husband couldn’t get anything; not that he deserved a penny, since she inherited the house from her mother.”

  “I sure wish I had met you sooner, Sassy. If I had someone back then to give me advice, things might have gone much better for me.” She poured coffee into a cup, stirring cinnamon creamer into it. “I’m actually ready to face that Patsy woman. I think it’s way overdue.”

  “And you never had the chance to earlier?”

  “Nope. I guess I was just too intimidated to confront her. Patsy seemed to have the upper hand.”

  “Margarita, I’m going to help you grow a backbone. You just can’t allow a man, any man, to get the best of you.”

  “I’m not like you, Sassy. My sister, Eleanor, tells me the same thing, though. She’s a real go-getter. I’m just not like that.”

  Dixie finished her breakfast and carried the dishes into the kitchen. When she returned, Margarita and I were standing near the door, donning our outerwear. Dixie followed suit and we left via the front door, passing a crowd of customers who were clamoring to get inside. “I hope you’re cooking Cajun style again later,” said a man as he walked past.

  Margarita whirled around and said, “You can count on it.”

  When we were in the SUV, I couldn’t help but notice Margarita’s face had reddened. “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Bud Haskel. He was there the day you girls rolled into town, remember?”

  “Of course, but honestly, it takes me longer to remember a face.”

  “She’s more of a names kind of girl,” Dixie said.

  “Especially for someone I don’t much care for, like that Daniel Adams.”

  “Oh, you could have fooled me,” Dixie said. “Sorry, but I’m not buying it a bit. Two people who go at each other the way you two do tells me one thing: there’s a mutual attraction at hand.”

  I shot Dixie a dirty look and spat, “You’re insane. That man is my opponent and that’s all there is to it.” I cranked the engine and sped out of the drive, making my way onto the main drag.

  Margarita was watching me though the rearview mirror with a smug smile on her face, like she knew there might be a shred of truth to what Dixie had just said. Sure, I’d admit that Daniel was good eye candy, but I had sworn off men. The last thing I needed was to let anyone keep me from my prize. I just hoped that Daniel wasn’t better with a bow than I was. Otherwise, I had a big problem.

  I parked on the curb when I pulled up to Curls and Cuts. It was smaller than I had expected with brick halfway up the building and a large plate glass window etched with the salon name.

  A bell rang when we walked inside and everyone inside glanced up, from women sitting in salon chairs to those beneath hair dryers. I twitched my nose at the chemical smell that trailed its way up my nostrils. Despite how small this place appeared from the outside, it was quite spacious inside. It was obviously deeper than wide with salon chairs on one side of the wall and hair dryers facing them from the opposite side. Shelves in the corner of the room displayed salon products for sale.

  I approached the counter and asked, “Is the owner here?”

  The girl scratched her head with a pencil and picked up the phone, informing whoever answered it that they were needed in the front. Then she hung up and picked up a nail file, smoothing out the edges of a rough nail.

  My eyes widened when a young woman clacked her way toward us. “Can I help you, ladies?”

  I stared at her platinum blonde hair until her blue eyes narrowed.

  “I thought Patsy McNalley owned this salon?” I said.

  “She’s my partner. I’m her daughter, Gail.”

  “We really need to speak to Patsy,” I insisted.

  There was a commotion in the rear of the salon as a broom toppled over. A woman with closely cropped black hair stood there like a deer in headlights. When she stared at Margarita, I just knew that she had to
be Patsy.

  A beautician nudged Patsy forward and I extended a hand for her to shake, but she declined it and instead said, “Well, as I live and breathe, it’s Margarita Hickey. I guess hell really did freeze over.”

  I tilted my head in Margarita’s direction, wondering if she’d stand her ground or retreat in defeat since this woman had so callously destroyed her life.

  “Just as trashy as ever,” Margarita said, obviously referring to the short skirt Patsy wore.

  “Well, Winston sure likes it. You know, your ex-husband, the one who left you for me.”

  “That’s not altogether accurate. I threw him out after I found out he was messing around with another women behind my back.” Margarita paused as if in thought and added, “I sure hope you know that you were not the only one in town he was dallying with, but I imagine you were the only one dumb enough to allow him to stay.”

  Gasps filled the room and I wanted to hug Margarita real tight just then.

  Patsy pursed her lips, and her face seemed to droop, if only slightly. “I can’t imagine you want to wallow in the past, so why are you here?”

  “We were led to believe that someone here had information about the late Clayton Percy.”

  “Oh?” Patsy said lazily. “And who gave you that bit of information?”

  “One of the strippers at Hank’s Hotspot. It’s an after-hours strip club, in case you didn’t know.”

  A large woman stumbled forward. “I should have known. It’s no wonder my husband goes there every Thursday night. He told me he was having a business meeting there!”

  Before any of us could respond, the woman stormed out, still wearing her perm curlers as a stylist ran after her in hot pursuit. “Hey, I need my curlers,” she said.

  “Oh, my,” Margarita said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  Patsy rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s go into the back before you chase any more of my customers out of here.”

  We followed Patsy into the back and filed into a room with an oval table that was overflowing with potato chip bags and Styrofoam containers, obviously the break room. She motioned for us to sit and once we did, she shook her head. “It’s just so sad about Clayton. He was a nice man.”

  My eyes widened. “Strange. So far, you’re the only person to say so. He was quite a louse and a cheat from the sounds of it.”

  “Yes, but he was generous, too. He brought his lady friends here to have their hair done.”

  Margarita’s eyes flashed. “Oh? How do you live with yourself? How could you look his wife Marilyn in the eye knowing what he was doing to her?”

  “It’s not my problem. I wasn’t married to the man.”

  “Of course it wouldn’t bother you, since you’re used to dallying with the husbands of your customers. I can recall you lying straight to my face when I asked you if my husband was cheating.”

  “Since I was the one who was sleeping with him, how could you expect I’d tell you the truth?”

  Margarita pounded her fist on the table. “I wish I had the guts to slap your smug face.”

  “Now, ladies,” I began. “Please, let’s talk about what we came here to ask. Was Clayton lured into the woods?”

  Patsy rubbed a hand over her head. “That’s what Cody Jackson said.”

  Margarita’s eyes widened. “As in Deputy Cody Jackson?”

  “Sure. I cut his hair once a month.”

  “And he spilled his guts just like that?” I asked.

  “Well, I did prod him a little.”

  “Does he know that you blabbed his story to your customers?”

  “I sure hope not. It was said in complete confidence.”

  “What did he say, exactly?”

  “Just that they believed Clayton was lured into the woods. They found footprints and he had received a voicemail from a mystery woman asking him to meet her.”

  “A woman, eh? Since he was a louse I suppose that isn’t all that much of a surprise. I wonder who it might have been. Did the deputy have any idea?”

  “If he did, he didn’t share it.”

  “And you never asked?”

  “I tried, but Winston showed up and the deputy clammed up.”

  I didn’t know what to make of this story. “Where is Winston now?” I asked.

  “He works at Hank’s Tool and Die now.”

  “Since when?” Margarita asked.

  “A few months now.”

  “Oh, you blew through all the money Winston won in the divorce?”

  “That was five years ago. You really need to let go, Margarita.”

  “I’ve moved on just fine.”

  “From the sounds of it, you’re barely hanging on to that restaurant of yours. It wouldn’t surprise me if you close your doors before spring.”

  Margarita leapt to her feet and shouted, “And it wouldn’t surprise me if you had a black eye come sundown.”

  Dixie interceded before Margarita could make good on her threat, and we shuffled her back outside.

  When were back in the SUV and I had pulled away from the curb, I couldn’t help but notice two cop cars skidding to a stop in front of Hank’s Hotspot. “I bet that woman from the hair salon called the cops about the Hotspot’s nighttime stripper shows.”

  Margarita hung her head. “I didn’t mean to say anything. It just slipped out. I swear, my sister rubbed off on me. She’s always getting herself into trouble on account of her mouth.”

  “Hopefully, nobody will tell who leaked the story. You might just get run out of town, but I thought it was legal. This can’t be the only town with a strip bar.”

  “Nope. They have one in Harrison, but it’s out of town, not directly in town like Hank’s Hotspot.”

  “Do you think we should hit up your friend at the sheriff’s department, or do you think we can con information out of Deputy Jackson?”

  “You girls might be able to, but I doubt he’d talk to an old bird like me. He has a way with the ladies, but I think I’m too old for him.”

  “And just how are we gonna do that?”

  “He likes to hang out at the Whitetail Inn after work,” Margarita hinted.

  Chapter Nine

  When we entered the Whitetail Inn, it was quite packed. Tonight’s winter festival activities were snowmobile races and ice skating, so most of the customers wore snowmobile suits that had been opened up, the jacket hanging around their waists.

  We made our way to the bar and ordered drinks, waiting to be served. When they came, I glanced at Margarita’s orange drink and had to ask, “Sex on the Beach, really?”

  Dixie erupted into fit of giggles. “Isn’t that drink too stiff for you?

  “I need all the liquid courage I can get. Questioning Deputy Jackson isn’t going to be easy. That’s why I think you girls should question him, but remember to call him Cody when he introduces himself. Act like you don’t know he’s a deputy. Perhaps he’s had enough drinks to be loose-lipped.”

  I nodded. There was a commotion on the other side of the room and Dixie and I wandered over there to check it out. An electronic dartboard was affixed to the wall, and right next to it was a mounted deer head.

  A man approached us and my smile faded when I saw it was my opponent, Daniel.

  “Hello there, again. How about a game of darts?”

  I stepped back. “Not me.”

  His green eyes lit up. “Oh, really? Are you trying to tell me that you can shoot a bow, but can’t play darts?”

  I swallowed hard. “Of course not, but I’d prefer to play pool. I’ve never played before, but I’ve heard it’s fun.”

  “After darts.” He thrust the darts into my hands, but I insisted, “You first.” With any luck, he was worse than me. I might be able to get out of this yet. He took the darts from me, and with his tongue in the corner of his mouth, he filled the dartboard with a precise aim that lit up a winning score.

  “Looks like you won already,” I said.

  “I’m not letting you off
the hook that easy.”

  He walked to the dartboard and pulled out the darts, once again pressing them into my hands. What on earth was happening here? It’s like he already knew that I couldn’t throw darts to save my own ass.

  I took my place and motioned in the air with one before tossing it toward the dartboard. It hit the edge and then bounced to the floor. Daniel roared in laughter.

  “Good try, but no cigar.”

  I whirled. “So, I can’t shoot darts. Sue me.” I slammed the rest of the darts on a table and walked away.

  “Hey,” Daniel called after me. “You don’t have to get all mad about it. We can play pool if you insist.”

  I froze when he said that and met him at the pool table. I made the break, but purposely barely moved the pool balls.

  “You shoot like a sissy,” Daniel said with a chuckle.

  I groaned inwardly, but I was holding my best shots for later. He shot all of his pool balls into the appropriate places, but missed on his try for the eighth ball. I smiled as I stared at the table and began making my shots count, finishing by sinking the eight ball. I took the pool stick back and shrugged. “Beginners luck. I guess we’ll have to wait until the archery competition before I can prove who is the better athlete.”

  He smiled at me with that smug look of his, the one I so longed to slap from his face. A man with very short hair approached and I smiled when Daniel greeted the man, “Cody, it’s good to see you.”

  “Who’s the redhead?” he asked, like I wasn’t listening.

  “Oh, her? That’s Louisiana Sassy. She’s misguided enough to believe she can beat me in the archery competition.”

  I kept smiling at the deputy, trying with everything in me not to slap Daniel. I refused to be baited by him. “Nice to meet you, Cody,” I said. “Surely, you have better friends than Daniel here.”

  Cody smiled. “Why do you look so familiar?”

  Drat, he must have recognized me from when I was questioned on my way into town. I glanced at Daniel and playfully tossed back my hair. “Perhaps we should take a table. We could have more privacy that way.”

  He smiled. “I like the sounds of that.” He motioned me ahead of him and I found a booth along the way. As I slid across the cool smooth seat, Daniel hovered nearby, but when Cody sat, he shot Daniel the look that meant ‘get lost buddy, can’t you see I might get lucky here.’”

 

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