For Her Honor (10 page)

Karen didn’t need to hear any
more. “Again, I understand. Really, I’m not looking for a relationship or anything close to it. That’s not a priority right now. My priorities shifted out of whack several months ago.” Wow, that had just slipped out.

“Karen?”

“Yeah?”

“Want to tell me what
really
brought you here?”

Eva
had just shared with her, although veiled. Karen couldn’t keep it bottled up forever. She liked Eva and felt comfortable with her. She was down to earth and to the point, unlike those fake, society wives in her family’s circle of friends. And, really, who in this little town was she going to tell? Who would care? “Something I had no direct part in.” She sipped her iced coffee through the straw and began to recount how her life had changed. “In a nutshell, my fiancé is serving time for embezzlement. I had no involvement or knowledge, but because we were engaged, my association with him was public. My sister’s husband’s a judge who got the best attorney on the planet to make sure my name was kept out of everything. It was and I paid for it. Condo, car, jewelry, gifts – had to sell everything. After Preston was sentenced, Sam, my brother-in-law, suggested I get away and start over. I had nothing left and couldn’t go back to my job with the prying eyes of my co-workers.”

Eva listened intently.
“What about your parents?”

“My dad’s the best.
He never wavered or made me feel bad. My mother,” Karen huffed, “typical society wife who cares about what others think. You do the math.”

“Shit.
She blames you?”

“I
ndirectly. Her daughter was engaged to a man who embezzled client funds and is now a convict. Betsy Hanson wasn’t too keen on the association. My sister pretty much regarded me as some lost puppy. Since all I had was what I could fit in that clunker I could afford, moving away and starting over seemed like a good idea.” She then took a deep breath and looked Eva square in the eye. “That’s it, Eva. That’s all. I swear. I didn’t bring that with me here, nor will it affect how I do my job.”

Eva smiled then took both her hands in a comforting grip.
“I know. I believe you. And it stays between us.”

Both women finished their coffees, made general small talk
, then left. Outside the coffee shop they hugged goodbye, agreeing to see each other in the morning. The affection seemed unpretentious and genuine. Eva was a straight shooter who meant what she said and said what she meant. There was no dancing around eggshells or double talk, so unlike what she was used to back home, where her mother’s outward façade hid how she really felt inside.

“Hey
, you.”

A voice on the other side of
the card shop carried over. A woman looking to be in her early sixties leaned up against the store next to Eva’s. Bright red hair matched bright red lipstick, which left a dark ring around the cigarette filter Karen could see from here. “Hi, Linda,” Eva waved.

This ‘Linda’ dous
ed her cigarette as Eva led her over. She looked directly at Karen. “A new addition to our town, I see.”

Eva made the introductions.
“Karen, this is Linda Moore. Her place is on the other side of mine.”

The other side.

The psychic.

“Nice to meet y
ou.” Karen held her hand out, which Linda happily took. She held it for a few moments, patting the top then stretched that red mouth into a wide grin. “There goes another one,” Linda said to Eva before releasing Karen’s hand. She turned around and walked back to her place, calling over her head. “Someone in this plaza is going to be a very happy woman.”

Karen’s mouth dropped.
“What the…..?”

“Don’t ask.”

Chapter Ten

Had there been some five car pile-up he didn’t know about?

Taz surveyed the three ca
rs delivered on a flat-bed late Tuesday morning. As per their agreement with the Lakeland Hogs, they funneled body work to the Skulls in exchange for washing the money from illegal parts. It was usually two or three a month, but this morning’s delivery accounted for their August quota.

“Get Wes – now.
” Taz ordered Zippy, who jogged off in search of the club’s intelligence officer, who was also being groomed for body work. Together, all three men orchestrated clearing out the shop to make way for the three vehicles before they were brought in. Taz surveyed the damage – which was a lot - which meant a nice, big fat bill. He grabbed three clipboards and thrust two of them at Wes and Zip. “Full assessment. Then check what parts we have in house before ordering what we need.” The cars weren’t totaled, but bad. Fixable. Taz loved throwing himself into a restoration. Taking something almost irreparable and making it brand spanking new.

He used to view himself like that sometimes, but he was what he was.
Nothing was going to change that. Not even some dark-red haired, light-green eyed vixen he still couldn’t get out of his head. He knew she started work in the plaza this week and, through Ben, found out she’d be moving into the rental. Right now the best defense against having her twist his shit all up was distance.

Almost an hour later, t
he damage on all three cars was assessed and a work schedule set. Pulling the blue bandanna from his back pocket, Taz wiped his face as Vic came in. “Hey. You square here?”

“On it.
Wes and Zip are starting on the minor stuff till we’re ready for replacements. What’s up?”

“Conti called
. Needs something handled. Tonight.”

Thank bloody Jesus.

“Ben’s punching out around two.
Finish up what you need in here and be at the table for three. I’ll give you the deets.”

“You got it, pres.”
Finally, some fucking action. If pussy and alcohol couldn’t put a woman out of your mind, some ol’ fashioned pain enhancement was a close third.

~~~***~~~

“Karen? There’s someone out here to see you?”

Up
to her face in boxes, Karen stepped down from a short ladder in the stock room of First Impressions Card & Gifts when Jen called her. She’d dressed comfortably to work today in jeans, flats and a purple sleeveless top. Even though the A/C was on, she was working up quite a sweat reorganizing the stock room. Her first order of business was to get familiar with the merchandise, where it was stored, when it was ordered, etc. Landing on the floor, she couldn’t imagine who could’ve come to see her.

Walking out front, she stopped short.
Her heart pounded as she exhaled like a bull ready to charge. “Mom? Shelia? What are you two doing here?”

Betsy Hanson wasted no time giving her youngest daughter a visual head-to-toe assessment as her lips pursed with displeasure.
“We need to talk to you, Karen.”

“I’m
working
,” Karen quietly spat out.

“Yes.” Betsy said that as if she were sucking on lemons.
“I can see that.”

“Karen, please,” Shelia quietly spoke up.
“Five minutes.”

“You drove three hours to talk to me for five minutes?
A phone call would’ve sufficed.”

Betsy looked around as if she were surrounded by inferior junk.
“I wanted to see where you were. You don’t tell me much, so I had to pry it from your father.”

“Because he’s the only one who didn’t give me shit about the whole situation.”

“Watch your tongue!”

Karen stepped back, catching a quick look from Jen.
“I can’t do this now. I’m working. Go wait at the coffee shop next door. I take lunch in fifteen minutes. We’ll talk then.”

Without so much as a goodbye, Karen turned and went back to the stockroom, taking out her anger on a box of innocent, stuffed Valentine teddy bears.
Valentine’s Day. Yeah, that’s when it all had begun, with a three-carat diamond hiding a big secret from its giver. In exactly fifteen, she grabbed her purse and headed out front, telling Jen she’d be back in thirty minutes.

She found her mother and Shelia inside Tippitt n’ Sip-It, both nursing a small coffee.
Karen hung her purse on the edge of the chair, pulled it out and sat down hard. “Okay, I’m here. Say what you have to.”

Betsy took a sip and made her trademark sour face.
“Bitter. But it’ll have to do.”

“Sorry, mom.
The gold-plated espresso machine must be on the fritz.”

“You developed
a sharp mouth since you left.”

Karen glanced at her sister, quiet and submissive under Darth Betsy’s manipulative wing
. Her hair was perfectly flipped and not an inch of her designer shirt dress showed a wrinkle from the long ride. When she knew she wouldn’t get any sisterly back-up, Karen looked back at her mother. “More like I got open eyes. “What do you want?”

Sighing hard, Betsy put her cup down and blotted an imaginary spot on her mouth with a napkin.
Everything she did, every move she made was fake. “We want you to come home.”

“We?”

“Me.” Shelia finally found her voice. “Dad.”

She looked at her mother.
“And you?”

“Of course.”

“Bullshit. And don’t tell me to watch my mouth.” Karen raised her voice a bit. “You don’t want me home. It’s Dad you think you’re doing this for. I knew he wasn’t on board with this, but he understood, so don’t say you’re doing it for him.” Betsy sat still and stunned while Karen felt the adrenaline flow as she continued. “Let me guess, those uppity ladies want you out of their precious little club because you’ve got a daughter on the run?”

Betsy sucked in her breath, clearly appalled.
“You…..you….selfish, disrespectful….”

“Selfish?
I sold my life to pay for that guy Sam got. I asked for no favors or handouts. And if you want to talk disrespectful, you better make sure you’ve got your ducks in a row. How you treated me, like…..like I was an annoying speck of dirt which tarnished your social reputation? Don’t you dare go there because it’s a fight you won’t win.”

Her mother was at a loss for words as her sister looked to be sinking down under the table.
Inside, Karen was shaking, but it felt good to finally let Betsy have hers.

“Karen?
Is that you?”

Turning around, Karen saw Janice Morrell with a coffee in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. “Janice, hi.”

Janice looked at the other two women. “Mother and sister. I see the resemblance.”

Oh, Betsy
was probably doing a full assessment on Janice’s outfit. High-waist jeans, white slouch boots, black tank top with a sleeveless white shirt over it and tied up under her boobs. Full makeup, platinum-blonde hair and a wrist full of bracelets, she looked straight out of a Bon Jovi video. “Mom, Shelia….this is Janice Morrell. She owns the bakery on the end.”

Betsy seemed
put-out to say hello to this walking fashion crisis, but made nice. That was what she was about. Janice, however, hadn’t skipped a beat. “You heading back today?”

“Yes,” Karen cut in before her mother could answer.
“As soon as my lunch is over.”

“Well, stop on down and I’ll give you some fresh pastry to take on the way back.”

Betsy turned her nose up. “No, thank you.”

“Mother,” Shelia cut in.
“Let’s get some. You know how much Sam loves sweets.”

Betsy sighed and gave in.
“Oh, alright. For Sam.”

God, Karen hated her mother right now.

Janice left and Karen decided to bring this unsuccessful negotiation to a close. “I’m sorry you wasted a long drive. I’m not coming home.”

Betsy waved her hand around.
“So you’re content to work in a stock room and live in a….a…
.motel
?”

“The card shop is two days, the bank is three. A
nd I’m moving into a rental next weekend so you can tell your book minions that your daughter isn’t shacking up in some truck stop dive.”

“Karen, I never…..”

“Yes, you
did
. You always did. I’m done, mom. Tell Dad I’ll call him tonight.” She stood up. “Come on, we’ll walk down to the bakery.”

They walked in silence until that heavenly scen
t of sugar greeted them on the other side of the door. Janice was behind the counter, wrapping up a white box with string. “I guessed cannolis,” Janice said, handing the box to Shelia. “Am I right?”

Shelia nodded.
“Very right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”
She then looked at Betsy. “Anything for you, Mrs. Hanson?”

Betsy was too busy looking around at the
glossies on the wall. “Is that you in those photos?”

“Sure is,” Janice announced proudly before following up with a cough.
“Excuse me. Had this nagging cough for weeks. Can’t seem to shake it.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with those cigarettes,” Betsy offered, wrinkling her nose.

Karen was aghast. Janice just smiled. “We all have our vices. Mine were hair bands and smokes. I’m betting yours are champagne and bridge.”

Holy shit
. Janice really went there. Karen couldn’t contain herself. Her mother stood there, crossed between wanting to lay in a good comeback and playing it classy. She chose the latter, in typical Betsy fashion. “Yes, well, I suppose you’re right. I hope you feel better.” Clearing her throat, she took Shelia’s arm. “Come on, Let’s get going so Karen can get back to…..work.”

“Fine daughter you got there, Mrs. Hanson,” Janice said.

Betsy put her arm around Shelia. “Yes, she is. She’s a good wife. Her husband’s a judge….”

“I meant Karen,” Janice correcte
d. Karen wanted to kiss the former groupie right on her pink, glossed lips. “She’s strong. Does what she has to do. We call that moxie. Karen’s chock full of it.”

Betsy looked as if
she didn’t know what the hell ‘moxie’ was. “Oh, well, thank you.” Damn, she was so stupid. “Let’s go, Shelia. And, thank you again for the pastries, Mrs. Morrell.”

“It’s
Ms.
Never married. Just me and my boy since I got knocked up at eighteen.” Janice was really laying it on thick. Karen wished she could record this precious moment. “You two have a safe drive back. Don’t worry about Karen.” Janice gave her a proud look. “She’s got it all under control, don’t you, hon?”

Karen tossed a glance to her mother.
“Yes, I do. Don’t forget to tell Dad I’ll call him tonight.”

With awkward smiles, Betsy and Shelia left, without so much a
s a hug or kiss goodbye. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Janice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did.
I know what it’s like to be shunned by your own mother.” She paused to cough into her fist.

“Thank you.
That was…” Karen smiled wide, “awesome.”

“You look
ed like you needed a champion there, sweetheart. Not to mention, a little something to end this day right. When’re you off?”

“Until
closing – six.”

“Me too.
Stop by when you’re done. Got a little something in the back for you.”

~~~***~~~

They had all the pertinent information on Jackie Jones when Doug, Ben and Taz departed in the club van for Fayette, Pennsylvania around seven that evening. Mr. Jones was a general contractor with a penchant for underbidding jobs in order to win them, as long as he had a lot going at once to keep the funds rotating. Until work stopped coming in and the loss caught up to him. He had turned to gambling to get it back; however, Mr. Jones didn’t have the magic touch with the dice and was deeper in debt to the tune of fifty grand. He had put up his equipment as collateral, which allowed him to leave the rings at night without having to pay up. And since his last visit, he’d decided to make himself invisible before anyone could come to collect. Until now.

According to Antonio Conti, Mr. Jones had a building in Fayette he used for storage where it was rumored he was laying low.
He’d closed his business, foreclosed on his luxurious home and went into seclusion. After Wes did a full blown dig, it showed the guy had two accounts with close to a hundred grand each. Further search showed he purchased a ticket to Canada, which meant he was looking to escape the country before the mafia-run gambling ring could send their people after him. He had the money. They just needed him to fork it over.

Enter the Mountain Skulls.

Careful surveillance showed Jackie Jones was taking up at his building until he could make his getaway. When the three Skulls showed up, they parked the van in a secluded area surrounded by trees. Dressed in head-to-toe black and sans their cuts, the three men drew their firearms and made their way to the building. A lone spotlight shone on the entrance as Ben halted Taz and Doug back, looking for the possibility of a security camera. “There.” Ben pointed to a tree opposite the entrance. A camera was placed to catch anyone coming in through the front. “That’s his car. Wes pulled the plate. He’s in there.”