There Was a Crooked Man: A Psychological Thriller

by Katrina Morgan

  There was a CROOKED MAN

  Also by Katrina Morgan

  Echoes in the Walls (2011)

  These Animals Are Killing Me (2016, 2019)

  There Was A Crooked Man

  Katrina Morgan

  Copyright © 2020 by Katrina Morgan

  ISBN:

  SOFTCOVER 978-1709093302

  HARDCOVER 978-1087861128

  E-book: AISN

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020903445

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual person living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  “Hope is being able to see that there is light

  despite the darkness.”

  ~Desmond Tutu

  Dedication:

  This book came about after a group that I was a part of sponsored a local Battered Women’s Shelter. To listen to the women’s desperate stories, and understand they left their previous life with nothing and still had hope, left an indelible mark on my mind, heart, and soul.

  Many, within our group (including me), could not comprehend how the women found themselves in such circumstances and did not understand why they stayed so long. In listening and paying more attention, I realized many people, not just women, are imprisoned in relationships and situations they cannot easily escape.

  This book, this story, although fictional, hopes to give them a voice.

  Chapter 1

  The little girl with dishwater blond hair slid her chair back, careful not to catch it on the torn linoleum. She eased her way out of the kitchen, tiptoeing and barely breathing. It was important to get away without being seen or heard.

  Mom and Dad were arguing about money, and that never ended well. She mentally counted the number of drinks they’d had, too. Three. Each. That wasn’t good either.

  Pushing a chair against her bedroom door, she huddled in the dark, while the argument raged louder. She crawled to the closet and pulled the string for the overhead light bulb. Even with her hands over her ears, she heard the bottle smash against the living room wall.

  She opened a book of nursery rhymes Aunt Susan had let her borrow from the library. Choosing one randomly, she started reading aloud, “There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile. He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile. He bought a crooked cat which caught a crooked mouse, and they all lived together in a little, crooked house.”

  Katie read it over and over until she could no longer hear her parents. The rhyme served her well over the years, becoming her go-to whenever she felt threatened or insecure.

  Chapter 2

  An alto saxophone wept soft jazz while a drummer kept a steady four-four beat—mixing with the hum of conversation from the three-hundred people gathered. Katie took in the elegant ballroom, shimmering with crystal, china, and ego and wondered briefly what it would be like to be a guest. Rolling her eyes at the notion, she kept moving.

  The state auditor had invited members from Georgia’s county zoning boards to celebrate their highly profitable fiscal year. Listening to snippets of conversation, Katie concluded the guests didn’t give a damn about Georgia’s bottom-line. The auditor had political aspirations, and most in attendance were interested in riding his coattails.

  The blond man working the room held Katie’s attention, though. He inserted himself seamlessly into conversations, giving specific compliments and asking thoughtful questions. Katie considered him more closely. The man caught Katie’s stare and gave a slow, welcoming smile. She turned away, feeling heat rush up her neck.

  The congested area by the bar had Katie sliding past clumps of people feasting and drinking to their heart’s content. She adjusted the hated bow tie as she offered delicacies and champagne from her tray.

  Hands slid across her body, and Katie spun toward the source. Two men standing nearby—the blond one she’d been admiring and an older, balding man in a tweed jacket. They spoke at the same time.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s crowded in here.”

  Unsure who to blame, Katie smiled tightly, familiar with the game. The blond man followed her and waited nearby as she served hors d’oevres. She changed direction. Stupid. Katie chastised herself. I shouldn’t have made eye contact.

  She was relieved when her tray was empty. It gave her a chance to escape. She bumped her hip on the swinging kitchen door and entered the steamy room. It was crowded with dishes--clean on the right, dirty to the left. Prep stations were bustling, and dishwashers ran non-stop. The soft music from the grand ballroom would never be heard in here. Katie leaned against the counter, rubbing her lower back.

  Donette, another server from the restaurant, shoved her way into the kitchen. “Assholes,” she muttered and caught Katie's eye. “They're all assholes, right?”

  Katie gave a meaningful look at Donette’s breasts spilling out of her white tuxedo shirt. “The accidental rub against the chest move?”

  Renae, slammed through the doors, harried and pissy. She caught the last bit of the conversation. “Oh yeah. Or how about the hand on the ass routine? They're all such assholes.”

  “Been there done that,” Katie admitted.

  “At least we get paid more for catering than we would at the restaurant,” Donette added.

  Renae threw her tray on the pile of dirty dishes and joined the two women for a quick break. “Still get mauled--just by richer asshats.”

  Katie snorted. She did love that expression “asshats.”

  “Laugh if you want, Princess. But we saw Boy Wonder watching you.” Renae bumped her shoulder against Donette’s. “Didn't we?”

  “Mr. Tall, blond, and sexy? Perfect hair. Perfect clothes. Yeah, I saw him, for all the good it did me. He's got eyes for our Katie here.”

  Renae pretended to pout as she toyed with the end of her dark braid. “I guess we'll have to settle for the asshats, huh Donette?”

  Katie waved their comments aside. “Trust me, he’s not interested in anything serious.”

  Donette glanced at the clock. “It’s only eight-thirty?” She rolled her shoulder to release the tension. “God. I hope this goes by fast.”

  The women shoved away from the counter and picked up newly prepared trays laden with bacon-wrapped scallops, and chocolate-dipped strawberries.

  As they re-entered the ballroom, Katie stopped in her tracks. The blond man from earlier was leaning against a wall just outside the kitchen. Donette and Renae saw him too and elbowed Katie.

  “See?”

  “He's been waiting.”

  Renae pivoted right, and Donette spun left, forcing Katie to face him alone. Katie narrowed her eyes. “Can I help you?”

  He pushed away from the wall, blocking her forward progress.

  “I wanted to explain that thing earlier. It was an accident.” He gave Katie a sheepish smile. “Maybe I can call you later?”

  Katie’s tone frosted, “Call me? You don’t even know me.”

  “That's not true,” he rushed forward until he was just inches away, “You have a contagious laugh, and you’re sweet even when men,” he pointe
d at his chest, “are total jerks.

  Katie looked at her watch and tapped her foot.

  ‘You’re smart too,” he hurried to explain, “I heard the conversation you had about tonight’s theme. All I need now is a name.”

  Had he complimented her face or her figure, she’d have flat out refused. His remarks about her as a person had her considering. Survival instincts had her shaking her head and stepping around him.

  He pursued her the rest of the evening, making eye contact, and mouthing, “Just your name.”

  Charmed, she finally whispered, “Katie.”

  “Well, Katie, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Jack. Jack Werner.”

  He continued to flirt throughout the evening, winking and sending secret smiles. As the night wound down, Jack found her one more time.

  “I rode here with my friends from work, so I have to go. Can I have your number?”

  Katie rattled it off as he typed it into his phone. As she watched him leave, she couldn’t stop grinning. Donette and Renae teased her mercilessly as they hauled supplies to the catering van.

  “I’m Jack,” Donette said in an over-modulated deep voice, “I’m the next best thing to God.”

  “Can I have your number, sweetie?” Renae batted her eyelashes.

  Leaving the event well past one in the morning, Katie parked her ancient Honda as near to a streetlight as she could. She scanned the area, ensuring herself the streets were empty and jogged toward building C.

  Oblivious to the cold March air, she took the stairs to her apartment two at a time, hopeful for the first time in, well, ever.

  Chapter 3

  Katie’s cell phone vibrated across the nightstand, and she squinted at the clock: eight-o-nine. Not recognizing the number, she answered cautiously, “Hello?”

  “Katie?”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Jack. I couldn’t wait to talk to you.”

  Katie curled into the blankets, stunned he’d called.

  The phone calls came daily, growing in length as Jack and Katie got to know one another better. It’s how Jack learned she was virtually alone. “Your mom and dad are both gone? No sisters or brothers?”

  “Nope, just my Aunt Susan. “What about your family?” Katie asked, eager to change the subject. No way was she going to have a conversation about her mom and dad this early in the game. He’d never call again.

  The long chats with Jack lifted her spirits, and Katie often bounced into work at the City Palette—an established restaurant in the old part of town. Renae and Donette tormented her by singing lyrics from any song they could think of that had Jack in the title: “Jack and Diane” from John Mellencamp, “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” by the Rolling Stones and “Hit the Road Jack.” The last one was a favorite, and Donette and Renae would belt out Ray Charles’ well-known chorus.

  Katie shook her head playfully. “You two are just jealous!”

  “Damn straight,” Donette answered. “I need a Jack.”

  Me too!” Renae added as she slid past with a tray of drinks. “Get me out of this hellhole.”

  Katie and Jack’s budding relationship had one barrier: She lived in Atlanta, and Jack in Savannah. Two weeks of daily phone calls hadn’t dulled the attraction, and Jack offered to make the drive to Atlanta. “I want to spend time with you, go on a date, see where this leads. How ‘bout Saturday?”

  When Katie hesitated, Jack pressed for an answer, “What? You don’t think it’s a good idea?

  “No, I mean, yes. It’s just a little scary, you know? Talking the next step.”

  “We don’t have to do anything,” Jack laughed, “but it is a four- hour trip each way, Katie. I’d rather not have to drive half the night.”

  Katie agreed, “I work until two on Saturday. Let me give you the building code in case I run late.” She rattled off a four-digit number. “I’ll leave a key under the mat.”

  Jack purposely arrived at her apartment early. He used the extra time to explore her rooms, rifling through the mail haphazardly stacked on the counter and sifting through her medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He looked for evidence of men's clothing in her closet and investigated her bedside drawer. Seeing a ‘Thinking of You’ card, his fingers curled into fists until he saw the signature, ‘Love, Aunt Susan.’ Checking his watch, Jack replaced each item exactly where it had been and hurried to the kitchen.

  A few minutes later, Katie sailed in the door and angled straight into Jack for a hug. “Hello, handsome!” She took off her work apron and frowned at the papers on the counter. They were stacked perfectly, not messy the way she remembered leaving them that morning. “Have you been here long?”

  “No, I got here a few minutes before you.”

  Katie dismissed the papers, thinking maybe she’d straightened them after all. She stuck her nose down into the bouquet of flowers Jack had brought. “These are beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you.” Jack pulled her close, stroking her brown-blond hair.

  “Stop. I look awful—my hairs a mess, makeup’s gone. And I definitely need a shower.”

  “You look perfect to me.” Jack bent her backward, kissing her thoroughly.

  “Whew! Aren’t you romantic?” Katie laughed up into his face.

  Later, after a perfect night out involving dinner, a slow walk home, and a fair amount of kissing and caressing, Katie pushed away. “Ummm. Ok. Whew.” She ran a hand through her hair. She stood, unsure of what to do with her hands.

  “This is actually only the second time I’ve seen you.” She hurried to a tiny closet and pulled out blankets and a pillow and walked them back toward the couch where Jack sat. Setting them down carefully on the arm of the sofa, she stammered, “I’m…I’m sorry. I know this seems weird.”

  “It’s okay, Katie. I know you’re not ready.”

  Appreciating his patience, Katie promised to drive to Savannah the next weekend. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky?” She gave Jack a wink.

  On Monday, Katie made her announcement to Donette and Renae, “So, I’m heading to Savannah on Saturday.”

  Renae swiveled her head, “Whoa. This is getting serious.”

  Donette latched onto the other part of the sentence, “Saturday? That’s our busiest night.”

  “I know,” Katie said. “I’ll make it up to you guys. I promise.”

  Renae wiggled her eyebrows, “You gonna do the deed, girl?”

  Donette leaned in to hear the answer.

  Seeing Katie give a timid shrug, Donette high-fived Renae and started talking lingerie. “You’ve got to get something silky and tiny.”

  “Lingerie? Shit. I didn’t think about that.” Katie mentally sifted through the few items she had at home.

  “Something black and lacy,” Renae insisted.

  “It’s been a while,” Katie admitted, and let out a sigh. “I’ll probably screw the whole thing up.”

  “Girl, when a man sees a woman half-naked, she’s already in control.” Renae flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Relax,” she did a slow hip roll, “experiment, and never underestimate foreplay.”

  “And then come back here and tell us all the details!” Donette added with a laugh.

  Renae agreed, “We deserve it after covering your sorry ass on a Saturday night.”

  Chapter 4

  Katie did buy lingerie—pink, not black. She then drove to a pharmacy blocks from home, snatched the first box of condoms she saw, and paid without making eye contact with the cashier.

  Her geriatric Honda, unused to long excursions, coughed a couple of times along the trip. Katie turned up the radio to cover the noise. Her phone beeped three times in succession, and Katie glanced at the screen. Texts from Renae, Donette, and Jack were waiting.

  At the next gas station, Katie filled the gas tank and tried not to worry about the money. Opening her phone, she read her messages.

  “Where r u on the drive?” Jack.

  “OMG! Jack sent flowers!” Donette’s text screamed.<
br />
  Renae sent a picture of the bouquet and Jack’s card: “Thanks for covering for Katie!”

  Katie responded to each, proud to be with a man who would send flowers to her friends. When she pulled into Jack’s apartment building, he was waiting outside, holding a poster, “Welcome, Katie!”

  Katie popped out of the car. “I made it! But I don’t think my car is happy about the drive.” On cue, her Honda let out a small belch from its rusty tailpipe.

  Jack took her hand. “I’ll show you around before dinner.”

  Katie nervously toured his apartment, admiring the kitchen, and running her hand along the expanse of the counter. “It’s all so new.” She stood in an overly neutral living room, wondering why there was nothing on the walls, before following Jack upstairs. The small second bedroom was a homey office: a landscape on the wall, bookcases, and a newer computer. “This is better.” Katie nodded to herself.

  “What do you mean?”

  Katie shrugged. “It’s just obvious you spend more time here.”

  Jack looked at the room through Katie’s eyes. “That’s true, I guess. I don’t cook much or watch much TV. I do, however,” he wiggled his eyebrows and steered her by the elbow, “also spend time in here.” He led her to his bedroom.

  She poked her head into the room, noting it was tidy and decorated in shades of browns. The queen bed centered between the two windows screamed for attention. Katie backed out and ran into Jack’s chest.

  “Can I freshen up before dinner?” she asked, trying to mask her anxiety.

  He grinned. “I take it you don’t want to use my bathroom?”

  She shook her head and jogged down the stairs. Squeezing into the tiny powder room, she took a big breath. Get a grip, Katie! He’s your boyfriend, for God’s sake. She dug through her purse, pulling out lipstick, and mascara.