Checkered Past (A Laurel London Mystery Book 2) (13 page)

“Morning! Coffee is ready. Biscuits and sausage on the counter. Butter is in the dish.” She didn’t look up at me.

“What are you doing?” I wiped my hair from my face and rubbed my eyes, trying to get them open a little more.

“Aliens can’t be killed by guns. So I’m going to make me a javelin.” She held the stick in the air and pretended to throw it.

I scratched my head and walked over to her. It was a pretty good start, though I knew she’d never use it.

“I think you are talking about vampires.” I yawned.

“Nope. I was up all night working on this.” Her eyes pierced the space between us from behind her glasses. “I saw it on the TV while waiting up for you.”

I moseyed over to the cabinets and got a mug and a bowl. I put Henrietta on the floor. I poured a little cream in my mug and some in the bowl, put the bowl on the ground next to Henrietta; she immediately started to lap it up. I poured myself a big hot cup of coffee and grabbed a biscuit. The knife slid through the room-temperature butter and I smothered it all over the biscuit. There was nothing better than room-temperature butter. My favorite.

“When I got home, you weren’t up. The house was locked up tighter than bark on a tree.” I shoved half the biscuit in my mouth. The yummy feeling oozed over my body. “These are so good.”

Trixie was an excellent cook when she wanted.

“I heard Jax here last night.” She shucked the knife along the stick, creating smooth lines. “It seems you might have two suitors.”

“Nonsense.” I shook the notion out of my head. “They are nothing but trouble. Both of them.”

“I wouldn’t mind one of them since the aliens are coming.” She held the stick out in front of her, and then leaned it up against the table. She got up and walked over to me. “Listen here, I don’t know what you have planned with Willie and I do love that boy, but I love you more.” Her expression was pained, as though she had been wounded. “I couldn’t imagine you going to jail. I know I’m not your momma, but I love you like you’re mine.”

“I know.” I gave her a quick hug. “I’m going to be fine. I think I can prove Willie was framed and I’m going to see what I can find out today.”

“How?” she questioned me.

“Let’s just say I’m going to make a visit to the prisons with the good people from Friendship Baptist Church.” I smiled.

“Laurel London, you know Pastor Wilson hasn’t forgiven you for what you did,” she warned.

“Well, God has.” I winked, grabbed another biscuit and trotted upstairs to grab a shower and get ready to head down to the docks.

I had decided on a pair of khaki’s and a pink tee along with a pair of loafers. How hard could community service be? Derek was probably not going to have me do much since we were friends and all.

The docks weren’t busy. I parked between Porty Morty’s and the Walnut Grove Journal. The sound of construction coming from the casino was loud and in full force. They were on a mission to get it done. I was glad. It was going to bring jobs to the city and we definitely needed it.

“Good morning.” Derek greeted me in his good ole boy voice. He put a duffle bag on the ground next to his feet.

He must’ve not been on vacation anymore. He stood there in his cop blues, his hair high and tight, his eyes shone in the sunlight.

“Yes it is.” I was feeling a little better about getting into the prison. “Say, do you think I’ll be done by ten?”

“Depends on how fast you go.” He used his foot to push the duffle bag toward me.

“What’s this?” I loved gifts. “A gift?” I asked with excitement.

“I know you love clothes.” He mouth tipped up in a grin. “Go on. Unzip it.”

Eagerly, I bent down and unzipped the bag.

“Orange!” I saw a hint of my favorite color. I dug in and pulled out an orange jail jumpsuit. “Are you kidding me?” My brows rose.

“Nope.” He pointed toward the river. “You are summonsed to picking up trash from here down to the new casino site.” He pointed to the bag. “There are plenty of garbage bags in there.” He pointed to the dumpster next to Porty Morty’s. “You can throw them in there when they are full.”

“But I wore my loafers.” The riverbank was always wet and dirty.

“I guess you should’ve worn old tennis shoes.” There was pleasure in his eyes. “Trixie had us dumpster dive plenty of times.”

“Good morning.” Donna Marple crept up behind us.

“Hi, Donna.” Derek smiled a smile I had never seen.

My eyes narrowed. I looked between them.

“Hi, Derek.” She blushed. “Are you keeping everyone safe and sound this morning?”

“I am.” He grinned exposing his bright white teeth.

Donna pushed her glasses up on her nose. “How was your vacation?”

They talked as though I wasn’t there.

“Wonderful. Thanks for asking.” He finally realized I was still there. He gulped. “What are you doing down here this early?”

“I’m going in the newspaper to see about some old clippings. For you.” She pointed to me. “I might have some more pictures of The Gorilla holding the same baby.”

“The Gorilla?” Derek glanced at me, confusion written all over his face. “Why are you looking into the mob? The crime is over.”

I swallowed. My mouth went dry. My heart beat a million miles a minute.

“I. . .” I grabbed the bag. “I have to get started.”

There was no way I could tell Derek about my past or the money. Ben Bassman told me I couldn’t tell anyone or it would put everyone at risk. This was why I was on a mission to figure out my past.

“Do you want to get a coffee?” Derek asked.

“Not with this thing on,” I said.

“Not you, Laurel.” Derek’s brows formed a vee. “You, Donna.”

“Oh. Sure.” She chirped. My jaw dropped. “I’ll let you know what I find out, Laurel.”

“Be sure to pick up all the trash. And I mean all,” Derek warned before he walked off with Donna.

I was still stunned. Was there something going on between them that I didn’t know about? A ping of jealousy stuck me.

What the hell was wrong with me? There was no way the only three men in my life were going to be loyal to me and me only. But the feelings I was having bothered me. I shook the thought of the men in the back of my head and put the jumpsuit on over my clothes.

Porty Morty’s had a boat dock. It was a perfect place to start. Otherwise, I would have had to climb down the embankment and I wasn’t willing to do that.

I had to keep a close eye on the time. There was no way, trash all picked up or not, I was going to miss the bus to the prison at ten o’clock from Friendship Baptist Church.

The city needed to get the mowing people down to the docks to mow and maintain the embankment. I was sliding all over the place in the mud. It was getting all over my shoes.

“Shit,” I grumbled and picked up an old beer can.

“Welcome to my home.” The voice came from out of the brush before Charlie Haskel showed himself.

“Charlie, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” I held my hand to my chest.

“You nearly gave me one,” he spouted back from his toothless mouth. He tugged at the edges of his small knit hat. “What the hell are you doing in that bright orange outfit?”

“I have to do some community service.” I hated to admit it.

“I thought you were doing better?” He asked, “Are you going back to your criminal ways?”

“How did you know about that?” My eyes narrowed. It wasn’t like Charlie and I ever had long conversations. Or any conversations for that matter. In fact, this was the first time we were ever alone. Like really alone.

“I might be homeless, but I’m not stupid.” He growled. “I know things. People don’t realize I’m around when they start gabbing. I sort of blend in.” He perked up a bit. “I hear a lot of things. Know a lot of secrets.”

“Uh.” I bent down and picked up another piece of trash. This time it looked like a condom wrapper. I sighed. “Nasty.”

“I know about Willie Ray Bowman being in town and I know people are looking for him.” He rubbed his stubbly face. His nose was wide and flat.

“Everyone in town couldn’t miss that one since all the FBI agents are swarming around.” I continued to walk forward. I didn’t have time to waste on the town drunk.

“The bad men are looking for him. Looking for a key.” Charlie called.

I quickly jumped around.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“Two bad men were down here on the dock last night.” Charlie walked out of the brush. “You got any money?”

Of course. He had information I needed and I wasn’t getting it for free. I dug down in the duffle bag where I had stuck my hobo bag and pulled out a twenty.

“Tell me.” I held the twenty-dollar bill in between my fingers in the air.

He walked over and plucked it from me.

“They were talking about finding him before the FBI because they knew he had a key they needed. And if he turned the key into the FBI, they would know Willie was an innocent bystander who had gotten in the way.” He sat down on the bank looking at the twenty-dollar bill.

“Did you get a look at them?” I asked.

“Nope.” He tapped his head. “I got night blindness. I can see in the light, but it was pitch dark down here.”

“Did they say anything else?” I asked.

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Funny accent though.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Not from around here.” He stood back up and started to walk up the embankment.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Cracked Egg. I need some food.”

“Wait!” I yelled. “Are you sure they didn’t say anything else?”

Charlie didn’t answer.

Willie was telling me the truth. He didn’t rob the bank, nor did he kill the people.

“Ohmygod!” I threw my hand over my mouth. The awakening realization hit me like a Mack truck. “He was going to marry me.”

Chapter Fourteen

Not that my feelings for Willie were the same feelings of love because over the years I had reached the point where any feelings I had for him were suppressed and resolved. In fact, my feelings of hatred still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Now I was on a mission to get those keys and right a wrong, even though I knew there couldn’t be a future with Willie. . .could there?

Derek was going to be mad as a wet hen when he figured out I didn’t quite make it past Porty Morty’s. Who knew there was so much trash along the riverbanks? I did fill up a couple garbage bags and threw them in the dumpster on my way to the Old Girl.

I peeled off the jumpsuit and stuck it back in the duffle bag, throwing it on the passenger side of the car.

“Ah. . .” I let out a big sigh when my butt hit the seat and I leaned my head on the back of the seat. “How the hell do I get myself in these situations?”

For about a minute I contemplated my own question before I started the car and took a right on River Road. I took a left on Second Street. I couldn’t help but look in the parking lot of Lucky Strikes when I passed; Sally Bent’s car could not be seen around town now that she was killed, so I couldn’t tell if Willie was in there or not this early.

I wouldn’t doubt it. He lived on beer and cigarettes for breakfast.

The Cracked Egg had the usual traffic for the morning crowd. There wasn’t a parking spot in front on the street, but the lot of Friendship Baptist was empty and it was right across the street on the corner of Second and Main. Perfect, since the church was my final destination.

“Good morning,” Gia called out when I came in.

She had tried, and I mean tried, to smooth back her curly black hair into a slick ponytail, wearing the usual The Cracked Egg uniform.

I took my seat at my usual stool at the counter and waited for her to finish taking an order from a six top in the corner filled with federal agents.

“Damn,” Gia chomped passing by the stool and making her way behind the counter. She grabbed the pot of coffee because she knew exactly what I wanted. She flipped the white cup in front of me over and poured. “Willie Ray Bowman isn’t going to make it out of Walnut Grove alive.”

“What do you mean?” My brows furrowed.

“While I was taking their food orders,” she nodded toward the group of agents. “One of them said a message had come through from the top saying Willie was a shoot to kill.”

My stomach sank when sheer black panic rolled through my body. Time was not on my side. Eventually they were going to find him.

“They are bringing in dogs,” Gia muttered uneasily. “I know you are doing something because of your strange behavior. And I think you need to let him know what is going on.”

The bell over the diner door rang. Pastor Wilson, his wife Rita, and a few of the Holy Rollers walked in.

“Laurel,” Pastor Wilson walked up to the counter while Rita gave a to-go coffee order to Gia. A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “The church parking lot is not your personal parking space. I’d appreciate it if you would move your car ASAP.”

“I will when we get back from volunteering at the prison.” I held my finger in the air to Gia. “Mine to go too please.”

Gia wavered, trying to take in what she had heard me say.

“Excuse me?” Rita asked, pushing Pastor Wilson out of the way.

Her short red hair was shaved as close to her head as it could be without mistaking her for a boy, unlike Pastor Wilson’s thinning hairline. It did look good on her, but she sure didn’t look good on Pastor Wilson’s arm. He stood six foot three and looked very slender in his dull grey suit. He had a pointy nose. Rita’s was a button nose.

“I said I was going to go with you to volunteer at the prisons.” I stood up and laid a dollar on the counter for a tip.

“Oh no,” Gia grinned and pushed the dollar back to me. “This right here,” she gestured between me and the Baptist crew, “is plenty of a tip to make me happy.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Rita shook her head and started to gather the Holy Rollers like she was a preschool teacher gathering the kids from the ice cream truck. “We won’t be having any criminal on our bus to visit criminals.”

“That’s right.” Norma Allen’s nose scrunched up along with the top of her lip.

“You know what, Norma. . .” I stopped when I felt a hand on my arm.