“Hearsay. She won’t help much.”
“Corroborate the note Amy wrote, should we need to use it.”
This was true.
“Also got a hit on the Audi,” Sully went on.
“Yeah?”
“Boys went over it, nothing there, totally clean, ‘cept it was so clean they figured he’d had it done professional-like so they did the rounds. Hit on a valet service on the other side of Indianapolis, out of his way, not close to here, not close to Cheryl.”
“Thinks to put us off the scent,” Colt noted.
“Yeah, ‘cept the Feds are persistent, they needed to, they’d check every professional car wash from here to Louisville, up to Chicago, over to Springfield and across to Cincinnati if they had to.”
“So they found something?”
“Yeah, man. He’d done a job on it himself but, as you could imagine, they found blood and not a little of it. They remembered it and were freaked by it but he gave them the same ole with the whole, ‘I’m Lieutenant Colton’ business, flashed a badge and told them he’d been injured in the line of duty or some crap.”
Colt felt his jaw grow tight before he stated, “That shit’s gettin’ old.”
“I can imagine,” Sully muttered, feeling his pain, then went on. “Identified him in a photo. Evidence is washed away but witness who cleaned is willin’ to testify to what he saw, or, more to the point, cleaned.”
“At least it’s somethin’.”
“We got more.”
Colt looked at his friend and Sully continued.
“Feds had some expert compare the note Denny sent to Amy and some writing we found at his house and the writing on the back of the high school note from Angie to Feb. Denny wasn’t bein’ so careful years ago when he sent his threat to Amy after she fell pregnant, he wrote it out long hand. Expert says all the writing matched. They’re sendin’ the glass from the frame to be analyzed.”
“He goes to trial, we’re not tryin’ him for rape, Sully.”
“Just fittin’ the puzzle pieces together and they’re all formin’ one picture.” Colt just stared at him and Sully asked, “You want more?”
“You got it?”
“Yeah, or, Chris got it. He went to Skipp’s, pickin’ up somethin’, who knows what, Chris is always workin’ on his house. He saw that Skipp carries three different kinds of hatchets, two types of axes. One of the hatchets looks real familiar to Chris so he asks Skipp about the hatchets and Denny. Skipp, now, this’ll surprise you, the old fart keeps everything. Every invoice for every nut and bolt he’s sold since 1977 when he opened the shop. All organized, all at hand. Skipp remembers Denny, as you would, a man in expensive clothes buyin’ a bunch of hatchets. He starts sortin’ through his little file drawers and pulls out the invoices. Four different trips, Denny bought all three hatchets and both axes. One of those hatchets, same make as the one found in the alley by Angie’s body. None of the remaining was found in the house.”
“He took ‘em with him.”
“Did Miller with one of ‘em, I reckon.”
“Any way Skipp can trace the hatchet in evidence to his shop?” Colt asked.
Sully shook his head. “But, with all the rest of it, a defense attorney would have a helluva job passin’ that off as coincidence, ‘specially if the other four are recovered and that one’s missin’.”
This, fortunately, was true.
Sully took in breath through his nostrils and then said, “Now I got some bad news.”
Colt slowly closed his eyes before he opened them and asked, “And that would be?”
“Monica Merriweather.”
“Fuck,” Colt clipped, he knew what was coming.
“She heard news of Pete, wasn’t hard to put that together with Angie and then snoop around and find Butch. Not to mention Marie and rumor flyin’ around. She came in today too, askin’ questions. The Feds are pissed. They’ve kept the media from linking these cases and they don’t want it out. The idea of some irritatin’ woman who thinks she’s Woodward and Bernstein and works for small town weekly paper breakin’ this story has them in fits.”
“You talk to her?”
Sully nodded but said, “She wants to talk to you.”
Colt leaned back deep in his chair, pointed his face to the ceiling and put both his palms to his forehead.
Only person Sully couldn’t sweet talk or swing to his way of thinking was Monica Merriweather. That was because, if she asked and was persistent enough, she could get to Colt and she liked getting to Colt. She also liked getting into his space and touching him a lot. When he first met her, he thought she was just a toucher. Later, when he saw her around other people, he noticed she saved that just for him.
Colt dropped his hands and looked at Sully. “You tell her I’m not workin’ this case?”
“Seein’ as you were first on the scene, I’m your partner and I am workin’ this case, this is our town, but we still got a task force made up of boys from every department in the county, not to mention the frickin’ Ef Bee Eye, I didn’t share that morsel with her because she’d know somethin’ was up if I did.”
Christ, he hated it when Sully was smarter than him.
“Feds would appreciate it, you have a word with her,” Sully said.
He had no choice and that pissed him off.
“I’ll have a word with her,” Colt replied.
“Got much on the robbery?” Sully asked.
“Got everything on it. Asshole didn’t wear gloves, prints everywhere and he made a mess. He pinged huge when we ran his prints. Junkie from the city, what he’s doin’ out in the sticks is anyone’s guess but riper pickin’s, likely. Figure they got lucky on timing, the family had a redeye back up from vacationing in Florida. Big house, lotsa shit. He probably wouldn’t of cared they were home or not and, if he’s jonesin’ and they confronted him, no tellin’ what he’d do.”
“You run him down?”
“Called into IMPD to check what they know about him and Drew and Sean headed into the city because Feb and I had to go to Amy’s funeral. Drew reports, not surprisingly, he’s not home. His woman says he disappears a lot.”
“Bet he does.”
“Drew and Sean also ran down a couple of his known hangouts but he’s gone. He’s scored and he’s not sharin’ so he’s disappeared.”
“Anything show up in pawn shops?”
“Not yet, least not the ones he’s known to use.”
“So I’m guessin’ IMPD Vice know him.”
“They say he asks for his favorite cell when they bring him in.”
“Jesus,” Sully muttered. “City’s closin’ in on us, Colt.”
“Funny, that,” Colt replied. “City’s closin’ in and the worst crime we ever had was one of our own against our own.”
“Yeah,” Sully said softly, “funny.”
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later, Colt walked into J&J’s.
It was Friday night and the place was a crush. Everyone was on, Ruthie and Jackie working tables, Darryl clearing them, Morrie, Jack and Feb behind the bar.
The minute he walked in, Feb’s eyes came to the door and he got the impression her eyes went to the door every time it opened that night, waiting for him. When she caught sight of him, he saw it, even in the dim light, her face got soft, her eyes especially, her lips tipped up at the ends and she did the jaw tilt.
That was new, her face getting soft like that. He liked it so he smiled at her, even though he would have smiled at her anyway.
Her eyes slid away and she smiled at the floor before she turned to the cash register.
He headed to his seat which was, as ever, empty and saw Lore sitting on the stool next to it.
He slid on his, Lore turned his head to him and asked, “We good?”
“You apologize to Feb?” Colt asked back.
“Yeah, and I bought her a shot.”
“She drink it?”
“She gave it to Joe-Bob, but said, ‘No o
ffense, Lore, I’m workin’.’ So I’m thinkin’ she’s good.”
Colt’s eyes found February and saw she was giving someone change.
“She’s learnin’ the art of forgiveness,” Colt muttered to Lore.
“Lucky me,” Lore muttered back as Feb headed their way.
“Hey babe, off duty?” she asked when she arrived.
“Yeah, honey, beer tonight.”
“Gotcha.”
She got him a beer, opened it and instead of putting it on the bar in front of him, she handed it to him. He took it and then drew in a long pull.
“Ruthie’s holdin’ on you gettin’ here to put our orders into Shanghai Salon,” she told him when he put the bottle on the bar.
“We practicin’ for when we move to China?” he asked, she smiled and he allowed himself a moment to enjoy sharing an inside joke with Feb. It’d been a long fucking time.
“You’re movin’ to China?” Lore asked and Feb burst out laughing.
Neither Feb nor Colt answered but they didn’t have to. Tina Blackstone sidled by, eyes darting from Lore to Colt, opening herself to either one of them had a mind to slip in.
Colt looked away.
Lore muttered, “Catch ya later,” and slid away.
“Honest to God, she’s a nerve, comin’ into my bar,” Feb said and Colt looked at her to see her eyes following Tina.
“She pay for her drinks?” Colt asked and Feb’s eyes moved to him.
“Yeah.”
“Good, then you can buy yourself more heels.”
She grinned at him then said, “Find Ruthie, tell her your order, we’re all hungry.”
She started to move away but stopped and turned back at his call.
“You’re hungry, baby, don’t wait for me,” Colt told her.
She tipped her head to the side and replied, “You said you’d be in.”
“Yeah, but my schedule’s always uncertain. You’re hungry, get food, I’ll sort myself out.”
She leaned into her forearms on the bar and got close. “But, you’re Colt. That means we’ll wait, or at least I will.” Then she leaned in further and touched her mouth to his before she pushed back and walked away.
Colt watched, his vision filled with the movement of Feb’s ass, his mind filled with memories of her standing in his bathroom in nothing but his t-shirt, solving the mystery of how she smoothed out her hair. Both made him smile.
He found Ruthie and as he had Shanghai Salon’s menu memorized much like practically every citizen in town, he gave her his order.
“You got it, Colt,” Ruthie said and headed to the office to call in the order.
Colt returned to his beer and his stool and watched his family work their bar and the way they did it. You have a few drinks, you got the money to pay for them, you enjoy yourself but keep yourself in line, it was like you were at a party at their home; welcome and they hoped you’d stay awhile. Dee being there would make life complete. Colt was pleased she’d made that choice, taken that chance and he hoped it worked out for her and Morrie.
On that thought, his phone rang, he pulled it out of the pocket of his suit jacket and looked at the display. A number came up he didn’t recognize but he flipped it open and put it to his ear, covering his other ear with his hand.
“Colton.”
There was a pause and then, “Um… Colt?”
Colt turned toward the wall to focus and he felt his gut get heavy. “Cheryl?”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I just…” she hesitated, “I don’t know if you want to know this.”
“Know what?”
“Just that…” another hesitation, “me and Ethan made it to Ohio okay. We’re here. Ethan’s sleepin’. He was excited all day. Thinks were on vacation.”
Colt closed his eyes taking in a breath and opened them on an exhale, feeling that weight lighten.
“That’s good,” he said. “Feds know where you are?”
“Called ‘em before I called you.”
“You hangin’ in there?” Colt asked.
“Could be better, seein’ as my boss didn’t take me hightailin’ outta town with no notice too good and fired my ass.”
“Cheryl –”
“It’s okay, I hated that job anyway and hated my boss worse. I still got a shitload of that asshole’s money and sold all that fuckin’ silver he gave me, which, by the way, wasn’t worth much. At least it was somethin’ so I got a nest egg that’ll last me and Ethan for awhile.”
Colt turned back to the bar and watched Jack laugh at something Joe-Bob said. Then his eyes slid to Feb and he watched her fill an order while she talked to her Mom. Then he saw Morrie take some beer bottles from Darryl and toss them in the bin, Darryl talking and Morrie grinning at whatever he was saying.
Then he thought of Morrie letting go his place, Feb letting go hers and Jack and Jackie off to Florida after Dee got settled in. Fridays and Saturdays, Darryl, Ruthie, Morrie and Feb always were working, on their feet and busy from five thirty until closing.
Then he thought about how he didn’t want Feb on her feet and closing the bar day in and day out like she’d been doing for two years. It was then he acutely felt Dee’s pain. If Colt was out of the house at some ungodly hour in the morning, which didn’t happen often but happened enough, and Feb dragged in at three in the morning, they’d have a few hours of sleep together and most of the time he saw her would be sitting exactly where he was, watching her move around the back of the bar.
Therefore, he said to Cheryl, “You get back, you come to Feb’s bar.”
She hesitated before she asked, “Why?”
“I know some people who’re good at takin’ care of people and you’re people.”
“Colt –”
“You come, it could be me buyin’ you a drink, it could be me talkin’ my woman into givin’ you a job. I’m not makin’ any promises but there’re far worse places you could be for either.”
“I –”
“Either way, it won’t take much of your time and it’ll be worth it.”
“But I –”
Colt cut her off. “In the meantime, I want you checkin’ in.”
“But –”
“Regular.”
“To you or the Feds?”
“Both.”
She hesitated again before she said, “All right.”
“See you in J&J’s.”
“Yeah.”
“Take care of that kid.”
“Always.”
“And yourself.”
“Not so good at that.”
“You’re young, you’ll learn.”She didn’t answer so Colt said, “Later.”
“Colt?”
“Yeah?”
There was another hesitation before she said, “Thanks.”
Then she disconnected.
“Who’s that?” Feb asked and Colt, who was twisted to put his phone back in his suit jacket pocket. He turned to see she was standing behind the bar right in front of him and he could tell by her face that she was preparing for whatever his answer would be, benign or malignant.
“Cheryl.”
“Cheryl who?”
“Cheryl one of the names at the bottom of the list of people Denny Lowe fucked over.”
“Oh,” Feb muttered, her eyes gliding away, her thoughts unhappy, malignant it was and it was lucky she prepared, “that Cheryl.”
“She’s safe in Ohio with her kid but her boss canned her for takin’ an unscheduled vacation.”
Feb’s eyes shot back, her unhappy thoughts gone, new unhappy thoughts in their place, she leaned forward so close she had to put her forearms on the bar and she hissed, “But she’s on the run from a murderer.”
“Don’t know any but not sure men who run strip clubs worry about that shit. Think they worry more about losin’ money.”
Feb leaned back slightly and snapped, “Oh my God, that sucks.” Her eyes were on his and the feeling behind them, mostly
anger, was intense. “She’s got a kid! And she’d just been royally screwed! What a dick.” She shook her head and looked away, saying, “Poor Cheryl, she just needs this to deal with after learnin’ about Denny.”
Colt was finding it hard not to laugh but he didn’t try not to smile.
“Good you feel that way, honey, since I essentially told her, she gets back and comes in, you’ll give her a job.”
Her gaze cut back to him then her brows drew together, she still looked pissed but he figured she wasn’t pissed at some unknown strip club owner anymore.
Then she asked, “You did what?”
“Your monthly expenses are gonna change, movin’ in with me. Morrie’s overhead is gonna reduce significantly, bein’ back home, and you need the help.”
“Dee’s gonna be comin’ in.”
“And Dee’s gonna wanna work until three o’clock in the mornin’ about as much as I’m gonna want you doin’ it.”
“Cheryl’s got a kid, how’s she gonna work until three?”
“Baby, she was a stripper.”
He had her there. He knew it because she straightened, put her hands to her hips and stared at him without saying a word.
Then she found the words she wanted to say. “You gonna offer a job at J&J’s to every stray that wanders your way?”
“Only the ones been fucked over by Denny Lowe.”
He had her there too. Like it or not, Cheryl was in their club. A club they didn’t ask to join but they were stuck together in it all the same.
Feb proved he had her when she asked, “She know how to make a drink?”
“She doesn’t, reckon she can be taught, same as Dee.”
“She got her shit together?”
“Does Darryl?”
Feb’s eyes slid to Darryl then they hit the floor and she whispered, “Fuck me.”
“That’s later.”
She looked at him and her face cracked. She didn’t want to smile and she didn’t want to laugh but she was having a hard time not doing either.
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