That was another reason he liked to eat there. It was cheap – a quality that had become increasingly significant to him as of late. He was already more than halfway through the five grand he had pulled out of the bank in Wiggins, and was considering going back for more. Of course, his fiscal situation would not have been so much of a concern had things not gone off the rails so bad with Charlotte.
He never set out to kill her – he really didn’t. Partially because, to his knowledge, she had never deliberately crossed him, but even more importantly, this was the first time he was acting entirely on his own. All prior direction had come either directly or indirectly from Doc Mayes. This decision to confront Charlotte about the bank ledgers had been his and his alone, and if the Doc had gotten wind of it, he would no doubt have taken extreme measures to stop it.
At the beginning, it worked. Kind of. Yes, Charlotte surprised him by coming home earlier than he expected, and when he heard her pull in the driveway, he barely had time to grab his stuff and hide. Plus, she was a lot stronger than he estimated, so much so that when he tackled her, she fought back and gave him more than he wanted. The only thing he could do to stop her from kicking and bucking him was go for her throat. He held on until she was unconscious but still breathing. When she came to, she was absolutely terrified – and rightly so – and he tried to calm her down by telling her what he wanted. She told him she had a briefcase that contained the bank ledgers, but it was not at the house, and if he would let her go, she would take him to the storage unit where she kept it. He thought she was lying, and he hit her a few times to see if she would change the story, but she held fast.
Looking back, he probably should have at least investigated or gotten an address or name. The paranoia from all the cocaine made rational thought impossible, which led to his next poor decision – to try to take advantage of the fact that he was on top of her and she wasn’t wearing much clothing.
When he pulled up her shirt, she snapped and began screaming and flailing like a woman possessed. She wrapped her legs around his torso and flipped him over, punching him and ultimately going for his throat. In all her frenzy, she got careless and lost her grip. He knocked her hands aside and locked back onto her neck. It was easy, even with her on top, considering how long his arms were. In a matter of seconds, she went from manic to sluggish to limp. When he finally stood up, panting, sweating and thirsty, Charlotte was dead. Which meant he didn’t finish any of the tasks he began that day. No bank accounts, no sex, and most importantly, no more opportunity to get his hands on some cash.
This last bit of truth left Fast Eddie with no choice but to go back to the source. Doc Mayes would pay handsomely to access those ledgers once he realized his ability to retrieve them died with Charlotte. It mattered not that Eddie didn’t know where they were either; that was beside the point. The old bait and switch was nothing new to him, and while the Doc was more savvy than most of his marks, with a bit of blackmail and some old-fashioned deception, Eddie was sure he could get the doc to believe that Eddie held the keys, if not the map, to the treasure.
The more he thought about it, the more Eddie looked forward to the opportunity to screw him for a change. After all, it had been nearly twenty years since Eddie committed his very first crime, and he had never forgiven Doc Mayes for the hand he played in it.
Chapter 42
On a good day, Kathryn could expect an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes of their attention – tops. Saturday mornings, even less. So after she ran through the schedule and discussed some assignments for what had to be done over the Christmas holidays, she let Marty speak. She thought he would be nervous, but once he got rolling, Marty couldn’t stop. In fact, he wanted to go into detail on every single drawing of his that had been picked thus far for the exhibit. He didn’t focus so much on his technique or the challenges of drawing things like feathers and eyes, but instead went off on tangents regarding the species themselves. Where they originated from, how often they appear in South Mississippi, their lifespan, etc. There were so many details that no one could follow him, and what started as a neat meet-the-artist idea devolved into a mind-numbing exercise in boredom. It was so bad, even Kat lost interest, and no matter how hard she tried to redirect, he just droned on.
Eventually, she put a stop to it, and informed Marty the students were only there for a certain amount of time, and they would have to get together again later to learn more about his fascinating work. Marty didn’t seem upset in the least and agreed wholeheartedly that he could come back whenever they wanted. Kathryn asked him if she could hang on to the notebook. He agreed, and to much fanfare, grabbed a cookie and had Emily walk him out so she could see him test out the new grips.
Kathryn reminded everyone about what remained to be done and asked the students to sign up on for the various tasks she had discussed with them. As they stretched and made their way to the board, she pulled Nate aside before he got to the door. It was not the ideal place or time to interrogate a potential witness, but her back was up against the wall, and she was running out of options.
“So how was homecoming?”
He turned around, surprised at the contact. “It was fine. No complaints whatsoever.”
Up close, Kat saw some of Nate’s dad in his eyes, and to some extent his build, but the shape of his face and skin tone differed – in Nate’s favor. They sounded almost exactly alike when he spoke. Kat thought he was more handsome than Dr. Mayes, and she fully expected a similar degree of arrogance but was pleasantly surprised to find him engaging and affable.
“Good. Who’d you go with?”
He tilted his head toward the door.
“Was Emily your date?”
His eyes twinkled a bit, and there was that grin again. “Uh, kind of.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He brushed his fingers through his hair, and she saw a bandage on two of them. She also noticed a pink line on one of his lips and a fading bruise above his eye.
“So what’d the other guy look like?” she asked. So far the conversation had been going well, and she was trying to keep it light. “Didn’t notice that before.”
This time Nate didn’t smile. “Sure you did. At my house last week.”
Kat’s jaw went slack. “Yeah, about that –”
“You do remember, don’t you?”
She held his gaze. “I do, Nate. And I recognize it may have been hard on you. That’s why I wanted to speak with you now.” This wasn’t the entire truth, but close enough. “If this is too much for you – you know, working with us here on this Marty Deen project – I totally understand. If you want to drop out, I won’t be offended in the least, and in fact, I’ll make sure you get your full credit.”
He looked back at her but didn’t say anything. This wasn’t about school credit anymore, and he knew it.
“So, let’s set the gallery work aside and talk about what went down last week,” she said. “You’ve figured out by now that I am the lead investigator on this case, right?”
“Yep.”
“And you realize your dad – Dr. Mayes – is under investigation for money laundering, among other things.”
“I do.”
“Do you know what it means to launder money?”
“Yes. I have been doing some research on it, actually.”
Interesting. “Then you know it’s a serious crime, which is why we arrested your father.”
“Yeah, and then you let him go.”
This comment surprised her. Nate wasn’t upset his dad had been arrested. He was upset his dad had been cut loose.
“Well, we didn’t have enough evidence to keep him.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“At the time we believed we had a reasonable basis to conduct a search and seizure.”
“Really? Did you have some secret protected witness or something?” He was asking a lot of
questions, but in all fairness, they weren’t bad ones – luckily for Kathryn, Nate’s inquiries were walking him down a path she intended to take anyway.
“Since you asked, yes, I did interview a potential witness who had some incriminating information. This particular witness had been working for your father as an insider.”
“Really? Do I know him? Who is he?”
“She.”
“She? Hmm. Okay, so who is she?”
Another good question. Kathryn walked over to the desk by the mail and grabbed the photo of Charlotte from her bag. It was a file photo the FBI had retrieved from Charlotte’s employer. She looked absolutely gorgeous. Not too slutty like she tended to present in person, but very professional, proper and even upstanding.
“Do you know who this is?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’ve never seen her before.”
“This is a photo of Charlotte Gutherz. Name ring a bell?”
“No. Should it?” He looked at the picture again and shook his head.
“Not necessarily – at least not for you.” Kat was surprised that Nate hadn’t come across Charlotte at some time or another – considering the relationship with Dr. Mayes. Maybe she was just a hotel thing.
“What about ‘Fast Eddie?’ Ever heard of anyone with that name?”
“Nope.”
“Ms. Gutherz is the witness I interviewed. Said she used to run money for your dad.”
“In Hattiesburg or Gulfport?”
“Hattiesburg. This was before you moved.”
“Did she say anything else? That doesn’t seem like much.”
“Well, yes.”
“So, what? What’d she say?”
Oh well. No time like the present. Time to get his attention.
“She was your father’s mistress.”
Chapter 43
Nate looked like he was trying to whistle but no noise came out. If he was hurt by this revelation, he didn’t show it, but he sure sounded angry when he finally spoke.
“Figures. For how long?”
“Years.”
“Did she tell you anything else?”
“Yeah, Nate, we did discuss some other items of interest, but because the investigation is ongoing, I am not at liberty to tell you all the details surrounding the case.”
Nate shrugged his shoulders.
“But I am allowed to ask you about one thing she did say.”
“Okay. What?”
“She gave up a name. Someone she believed may have played a role in the crime.”
“Someone I know?”
“Most definitely.”
He stood up straight. She had his full attention. “Who?”
“You, Nate,” Kathryn said, and paused. “She identified you.”
“Me? Wait, wait. Are you saying this lady – this Charlotte lady – your ‘mystery witness’ identified me as part of this case?”
“She did.”
“Well, I can tell you I have nothing to do with this.” He started pacing the room and then stopped right in front of Kathryn. Suddenly, he was talking fast and stuttering. “Ab-absolutely nothing. I need to speak with her,” he said, raising his finger to make a point. “I-I need to know exactly what she said abou- about me, and what she knows about my dad. And I want to hear it directly from her mouth.”
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean, I can’t? Of course I can. Call her.”
“I can’t call her, and you can’t talk to her.” She peered out the front window. Emily was looking down the street, and Kathryn could see Marty on his bike near the corner showing it off. She still had some time with Nate before they came back in. Kathryn handed him another photo. It was one taken by the detectives at Charlotte’s house after she’d been cooking for three days.
“She was murdered, Nate. Just shortly after she spoke to me last week. That’s why I need to talk to you.”
He put his hand to his mouth, and the color in his cheeks faded so quick Kat thought he might pass out.
“Murdered? Who did it?”
“We don’t know, but I suspect it’s someone who works for your dad who goes by the name of ‘Fast Eddie.’”
“Fast Eddie? I already told you I don’t know who that is.”
“I know, but I think you may know something, Nate. And I’d like to talk with you some more about it.”
Nate looked out the window and at a sparrow picking at a piece of crust on the sidewalk. He took a deep breath, and turned back her way, a bit standoffish, but, not totally disengaged.
“Let’s talk about it then.”
Chapter 44
Jack’s was set up so that a solo eater could dine in peace without feeling like a leper. In addition to booths and tables, it had a countertop with barstools facing a large plate-glass storefront window that provided a good perch for people-watching downtown. Fast Eddie took one on the left corner so he could see out and still keep an eye on the restaurant.
It was more crowded than usual for a fall Saturday, and he chalked it up to the fact that Southern Miss and State had away games, and Ole Miss had a bye weekend. Some people were shopping, perhaps getting an early start on Christmas, and some were just out and about socializing. He saw a few joggers and watched three young mothers push their strollers down the street before stopping at Coast Roast for coffee and girl sandwiches. He liked the small-town feel he got when he ate downtown. It made him nostalgic for a childhood that never was.
He was halfway through his slice when his eyes locked on a bike leaning against a pole outside the art gallery. But it wasn’t just any bike – it was an old Schwinn with a silver banana seat. It had a retro vibe, and while he liked the look of it, something about the bike disturbed him. Had he seen it before? He kept eating and watching it, hoping the kid who owned it would come out and jog his memory.
A few minutes later, his patience was rewarded when the door swung open and a grown man and a teenage girl walked out. They were clearly talking about the bike because the man was pointing to it. He flipped it over on its back and cranked the pedals super-fast, making the back wheel a spinning blur. They used to call that making ice cream back in the day. Then the man eased it back upright, climbed on, and sped around the block, taking a lap. When he returned, the girl was jumping up and down and clapping.
Fast Eddie motioned behind the counter. “Hey, Jack, you got a second?”
“You need a refill?” Jack perpetually wore a bandana tied around his head positioned so his blonde wavy hair stuck out the back. He could have passed for a retired surfer in looks but not disposition. Jack could be downright surly at times.
“No. Wanted to ask you a question. You see over there, by the Holden Gallery?”
Jack finished throwing a pizza and leaned over his workstation. “Yeah. What about it?”
“It’s kinda weird. There’s an old bike over there – it was leaning on the rail earlier – and I just saw a grown man jump on it and take it for a spin. He’s over there right now, still sitting on it.”
Jack squinted down the sidewalk and pointed. “Oh yeah, that’s Marty Deen.”
“Marty Deen?”
“Been a fixture around Gulfport forever.”
“How so?”
“Retarded son of one of our councilmen. Been riding that bike since he was a kid. He’s probably over at the gallery getting ready for his show.”
“His show?”
“He’s one of those – what do they call ’em – savants? Can draw and paint like something out of a magazine. Mainly birds and things he sees out in the woods where he works. On some mornings you can see him hightailing it down Pass Road on that bike with his bag strapped to his fender rack.”
Suddenly Eddie was not hungry anymore. He knew exactly what show it was. Kathryn h
ad been talking about it a lot.
He turned back to the sidewalk, and as his mind churned, he definitely recalled seeing Marty on the road, but what made him set his pizza down was the very real possibility he had also seen the bike a few months before.
“Where does he work?” he asked, even though he was certain of the answer.
“Over in Archie Park.”
His mouth couldn’t find the straw to his tea. “Archie Park?”
“Yeah, just off 49. Where they host all of those sports tournaments. It’s real nice this time of year. Just gotta’ be careful. A fella got killed up that way a few months back. You remember that?”
“Oh yeah.”
“There are some crazy folks out there.”
“There are,” he said, nodding his head.
“Anyway, they have some nature trails and stuff. Not too hot this time of year, you know? May be worth checking out.”
“That’s a good idea,” he said, still looking out the window.
“Right on,” Jack said, and got back to laying out pepperoni slices.
Fast Eddie took one more nibble as he watched Marty Deen jump back onto the bike and take off. He drove it right past the window, and Eddie got a good look at him.
Not too tall. Medium build. Looked a bit sluggish. The kind of person they would have called a “soft target” back during training.
If the situation dictated action, he should not be a problem.
Chapter 45
When Ms. Cooper told Nate he had been identified as someone who might be of interest in his dad’s case, he felt like he had been pushed down an elevator shaft. Sure, the information about Charlotte’s being his dad’s mistress was tough, but not totally unexpected. Him playing any type of role in the investigation, however, came out of nowhere.
The very first thing that came to mind was the Polaroids. Now that Nate had an FBI agent on his trail, maybe it was time to give them up. He figured she only stopped him because she thought he had them. Before he could respond, Emily stepped back into the door.
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