The Ex Who Hid a Deadly Past

by Sally Berneathy

  Amanda reached the main floor and was in sight of the front door and freedom when someone laid a hand on her shoulder.

  She spun around. “Jake! What are you doing here?”

  “I work here. Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah, I mean...I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “I asked Ross to let me know when you were through.”

  “Oh?”

  “Are you okay? Last night you sounded upset. I know it’s rough, finding a body that close to where you work and live.”

  She shrugged. “I’m fine. Not the first time I’ve seen a dead body.”

  “First time you found one on your property.”

  “It’s no big deal, really.”

  “Do you want to stay at my place until we get this all wrapped up?”

  Charley moved between them. “He wants to be sure you don’t kill anybody else.”

  Amanda gasped. “You want to be sure I don’t kill anybody else?”

  Damn! She’d let Charley’s words come out of her mouth again.

  Jake’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “What? No. I didn’t say that. I just want you to be safe.”

  Warmth wrapped around her at his words. “I appreciate that.”

  She would like nothing better than to stay with Jake. She wasn’t scared to be at home but she wanted to be close to him, to feel reassured that no rift existed between them...that he didn’t think she was a murderer.

  But she’d have to take Charley with her.

  “Then it’s a plan,” he said. “I’ll call you as soon as I get home, and you can grab your toothbrush and come over.”

  For a fraction of a second Amanda allowed herself to consider what it would be like to take her toothbrush to Jake’s apartment, to enjoy the pleasures of a normal relationship. But theirs was not a normal relationship. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine at home. Anybody tries to break in, I’ll shoot him.” She flinched at her own choice of words, talking about shooting someone after a man had been shot in her driveway. “Or hit him with a hammer or...something.”

  “Then I’ll come to your place,” he said.

  Charley floated close to Jake’s face. “You will not come to my home and sleep with my wife.”

  Jake’s place, her place, it all came back to the same problem.

  Charley.

  “Much as I’d love to spend the next night or two or even three with you, I know we wouldn’t get much sleep—”

  “I don’t want to hear this!” Charley shouted.

  Jake smiled.

  “—and we both have to work. You need to be at your best to catch this guy fast so you don’t have to work overtime and we can spend the weekend together.”

  Jake took her hands in his. “You’ve got my cell number. Call anytime for any reason. If you hear a noise outside, I don’t care if it’s two in the morning, and the noise turns out to be a cat, call me.”

  “I can take care of her, jerk,” Charley snapped.

  “Two in the morning?” she repeated. “A cat? Really?”

  He squeezed her hands. “Yes, really.”

  Amanda smiled. She couldn’t help it. She was standing in the police station after donating DNA and confessing to Ross that her ex was haunting her. But Jake’s words and the caring expression on his face tilted the corners of her lips upward. “I promise.”

  “Be careful.” He hesitated. “That bar down the street from you, Bikes and Brews, do you go there often?”

  Jake’s serious tone took away Amanda’s smile.

  “No,” she said. “I’ve never been there.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “Okay.” He leaned toward her and gave her a quick kiss. “Remember...call me. Any time for any reason.”

  Amanda left the station, went down the steps into the brisk autumn air. But it didn’t clear her head. The session with Ross hadn’t been terrible. Could have been much worse. Jake had lifted her spirits with his concern. It would be normal to ask if she’d ever been to the bar down the street from where she lived and worked, the bar frequented by the victim.

  But there was something in his expression, his tone of voice when he asked...something that bothered her.

  “You want to go down to the bar tonight and find out why that damned detective is so interested in knowing if you’ve ever been there?” Charley asked.

  He also sensed that something.

  She hated being on the same wavelength as Charley.

  “No.”

  The young man coming up the steps toward the door stopped and looked at her, then hurried on past.

  Probably thought she was nuts, talking to herself.

  Maybe she was.

  Chapter Six

  Amanda pulled into the parking lot of her shop, flipped down the kickstand, and took off her helmet.

  Charley appeared in front of her. “The only reason he wants to come over here is so he can keep an eye on you and stop you from killing anybody else.”

  Ignore him, Amanda ordered herself.

  “Call anytime for any reason,” Charley mimicked. “Call him if you find another body.”

  Ignore him!

  Dawson looked up when she entered the shop. He was sitting in the middle of the floor with the parts of a vintage Harley Davidson Panhead spread around him. “I’m so glad you came back,” he said. “I was getting worried.”

  “See?” Charley said. “I’m not the only one who thought they were going to throw you in jail.”

  Ignore him! “Thanks for opening up for me, Dawson. How’s your day going?”

  He returned his attention to the Panhead. “New chain and a starter solenoid came in for this bike. I should have it all together and ready to start painting by tomorrow morning. Maybe this afternoon.”

  Still sitting across the room under the skylight, the blue Honda Shadow looked beautiful and ready to ride.

  “The Shadow turned out really well. Is the owner coming to pick it up today?” Amanda watched Dawson closely for his reaction.

  “The paint needs to cure for another day or two.” He continued to tinker with the Panhead carburetor. A faint blush streaked the side of his face.

  Charley went over to the bike and studied it. “Lots of attention to detail. He really likes this chick.”

  Amanda hung her jacket and helmet on the coat rack then strolled closer to the Shadow. “Looks great. I hope the owner appreciates all your effort.”

  Dawson said nothing.

  “He’s not going to volunteer any information,” Charley said. “You have to ask him a direct question. Ask him if he’s taking payment in services for his work.”

  Of course Charley would come up with something crude.

  But he had a point about asking a direct question.

  She trailed a hand over the smooth leather of the seat. “So...what’s the owner’s name?”

  Dawson looked up, blinked, licked his lips, shoved his glasses higher on his nose. And blushed some more. “Her name is Jerrilee.”

  “Did you meet Jerrilee when she brought in the bike, or was she already a friend of yours?”

  “She brought in her bike while you were out of town. That’s the first time I met her. I filled out a ticket on her. I did everything by the book.”

  “I know that. You always do.”

  He went back to his work.

  “Are you dating her?” she asked.

  He didn’t look up. “Sort of.”

  Charley chortled. A thoroughly disgusting sound. “Ask him if they’re doing—”

  Amanda cut Charley off with a glare then smiled at Dawson. “I think it’s wonderful you’re seeing someone. When do I get to meet her?”

  “Oh. Well. I don’t know. Soon.”

  “Why’s he ashamed of this woman?” Charley asked. “Is she ugly? Is she married?”

  “Damn it!” Amanda clenched her lips shut before she could say anything else to Charley about his crude thoughts.

  Dawson’s head jerked up, a s
hocked expression on his face.

  “Not you,” she said. “Damn this...this nasty bug flying around here.” She took the opportunity to slap Charley. Her hand passed through him and her fingers felt icy, but the gesture was gratifying. “Got him!”

  “Good,” Dawson said. “It causes a lot of problems when one of those little bugs gets in my paint.”

  “Well, this paint job looks perfect. When will Jerrilee be coming in to pick up her bike?”

  Charley regarded her smugly. “You’re wondering what’s wrong with her too.”

  Dawson was acting like a typical boy moving into manhood, embarrassed by his first relationship with a woman. Raising his younger brother, Grant, after the death of their parents hadn’t given Dawson a chance to lead a normal life, meet women, have casual relationships.

  Plus, he was a certified nerd.

  Amanda was the closest thing he had to a mother.

  She swallowed hard at that thought. She wasn’t exactly a paradigm of a responsible adult.

  “Has Grant met Jerrilee?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Does he like her?”

  Dawson shrugged. “He’s just a kid. He’s not into girls yet.”

  That meant Grant didn’t like the woman.

  Dawson was brilliant as far as computers and motorcycles went, but he was incredibly naïve. She needed to step up to the plate, be a responsible surrogate mother. She should check out this girlfriend, see if there was a reason Grant didn’t like her.

  The work ticket Dawson filled out would have her name and address. That was a starting point.

  “I’m going to do some paperwork,” she said.

  “Okay.” Dawson gave no indication that he knew his boss would be snooping into his personal life.

  And why should he? She owned this place. She had every right to look through the paperwork.

  Though that was usually Dawson’s area.

  She strode determinedly toward the small office at the back of the shop.

  “Oh, good, we’re going to snoop,” Charley said.

  He was right, but Amanda didn’t like the way it sounded coming from his lips. Or his former lips. Whatever he used for speech.

  Jerrilee Armstrong’s ticket was in the first drawer of the file cabinet in the Current Work Orders file. Before Dawson, the Current Work Orders file consisted of the top layer of scribbled notes in a pile on the desk. Dawson had organized everything. He was a treasure...as an employee and as a friend.

  Jerrilee’s address was an apartment in a large complex a few miles away. She had a cell phone but no land line. Her credit card was a Master Card. Dawson had successfully charged the card for a deposit on her work. Employer, City of Dallas. Current driver’s license. The rest was information about her bike and the required repairs.

  A chill shivered down one side of Amanda’s head.

  Charley stood a few inches inside her shoulder, peering intently at the information.

  She reacted automatically, trying futilely to shove him away. “Do you mind?”

  “What?”

  “You’re crowding me.”

  “Oh, sorry.” He moved but continued to stare at the papers on the desk. “That apartment complex sounds familiar. I think I might have been to some wild parties there.”

  “You’ve been to wild parties in most of the apartment complexes in the city,” she whispered. “So?”

  “This woman could be taking Dawson to those wild parties.”

  “So?”

  “You got mad at me for going to wild parties.”

  “Dawson’s single. It’s okay if he goes to wild parties.”

  “She’s using him.”

  “For what? He doesn’t have any money. He can’t advance her career. What could she be using him for?”

  “Sex?”

  “I hope so.” Amanda wrote the name and address on a piece of paper then put the folder back inside the file cabinet and slid the drawer closed.

  Charley frowned. “Why did you write that down?”

  “I may ride by her apartment.”

  “Why?”

  She didn’t have an answer to that question. Dawson was an adult. He could have a girlfriend if he wanted. She wasn’t really his mother.

  But she was his friend...his older, more experienced friend. “Check things out. Make sure she’s living in a decent place.”

  “Her place is fine.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’ve been to parties at those apartments. But were you sober enough at any of those parties to judge what kind of people live there?”

  Charley sputtered but said nothing.

  “I’ve got things to do,” she said. “Go away.”

  He did not. He followed her into the work area then stood beside her and supervised while she worked on a Yamaha Scooter.

  Charley’s motorcycle repair skills had taken a back seat to his con artist skills when he was alive. Now that he couldn’t con people who were unable to see or hear him, he was left with only the one skill. Sometimes he was helpful. Most of the time he was pushy, loquacious, and annoying.

  The front door opened shortly after lunch.

  Amanda gasped and dropped a screwdriver.

  “Thought Jake was coming to take you away, didn’t you?” Charley taunted.

  “No,” she whispered. “Anybody who found a body would be jumpy.”

  A scrawny, bearded man came in.

  Amanda rose to greet the visitor. “Can I help you?”

  The man hesitated and peered closely at her. “Amanda?”

  “Yes?”

  “You look different with your hair pulled back like that.”

  Amanda touched the messy braid. “It’s my riding and working do.” When she went out with Jake, she wore it down, but this was the way she wore her hair most of the time.

  “You remember me, right?” the man asked. “Bert?”

  She did not, but it would be bad business to admit it. “Of course. Good to see you again, Bert.” He wore riding gloves and clutched a helmet in one hand. “Out for a ride on the bike?”

  “Bike could use a little work.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Let’s take a look.”

  She followed him outside to an older model Harley Sportster 883 with faded green paint, several dents, and peeling leather on the seat.

  “Clutch has been slipping, and I think I got some bad gas,” Bert said.

  “We can check all that. Oil change?”

  “Sure. Maybe a new paint job too. I can make it worth your while.” He grinned and winked.

  “I don’t like this guy,” Charley said.

  Being likeable was not a criterion for being a customer. Money from any source was likeable.

  “Okay. Let’s go inside and get some information, then I’ll check out your bike and work up an estimate for you.”

  “We don’t need to do that.” Bert reached into the pocket of his scruffy jeans and pulled out a baggie containing greenish-gray bits of dried plants.

  Surely that was not—

  “Weed!” Charley moved closer. “I always enjoyed a few hits off a joint. I bet if you blew the smoke at me, I could get a contact high.”

  A customer wanted to pay her with drugs, and her resident ghost wanted to get high. Could this day get any worse?

  “Uh, we take cash, check, or credit cards. Not...uh...” She waved a hand at the baggie. “No trades. Sorry.”

  Bert’s brow furrowed. He looked puzzled. “But you told me if I’d bring you some of the good stuff, we could work a deal.”

  Amanda took a step back. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t tell you that.”

  “Sure you did.” He winked again. “Well, you had a couple of beers, but you didn’t act like you was drunk.”

  Amanda took another step backward. Charley had been right about this guy. She didn’t like him either. “I think you’re mistaken.”

  Bert squinted, peered at her closely for a moment then looked across the parking lot to the spot be
neath the catalpa tree where Lenny’s body had lain. “Too bad about Lenny. I guess a lot of cops came around asking questions when they found him, huh? Is that what this is about? I didn’t tell them anything when they came to the bar last night. How about I leave the bike here and you drive me home? We can work this out.” He winked a third time.

  Amanda would like to yank that eyelid right off his face, toss it to the ground and stomp on it. Instead she put her hand in her pocket and closed her fingers around her cell phone. “I’ve never met you before, I never made any deal with you, and I’m not going home with you. Take your bike and leave. Now.”

  Bert snorted and slid the baggie back into his pocket. “Oh, yeah? You remembered me well enough when I first came in here. Next time you come to Bikes and Brews, don’t expect old Bert to buy your beers, and the next time the cops ask me, I’ll tell them everything I know about you and Lenny.” He slammed the helmet on his head and got on his bike. “Bitch.” He turned the key, revved the engine, and rode away.

  Amanda shivered. “I think Bert’s been sampling his own wares.”

  But he knew about her connection to the murdered man.

  Other than the cops, only three people knew about the incident between Lenny and her...Lenny, Dawson and her. She hadn’t told Bert, and she was reasonably certain Dawson hadn’t. That meant Lenny had been mouthing off to his bar buddies about his encounter with her.

  But Bert thought she had been in Bikes and Brews, that he’d bought beers for her, that they’d struck a bargain to trade weed for repairs.

  “Did you go to that bar Sunday night when I wasn’t here?” Charley asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “That man knew you. He called you by name when he came in the door. You said you remembered him.”

  Amanda stared after the smoke trailing behind the Sportster. “I know I said that, but I didn’t. I was being polite.”

  “You were lying?”

  “It’s not the same thing. Well, sort of, I guess. A white lie. Maybe beige.”

  “What’s he going to tell the cops?”

  “I don’t know. What can he tell them? Dawson already told them I threatened Lenny with a hammer.”

  Charley shrugged. “He can tell them you offered to do work on his bike in exchange for illegal drugs.”