Fulfilling Promises (Red Starr, Book Five) (15 page)

“Hey, Doc.” Trigger walked back around Devyn’s desk and picked up the work orders in question. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to ignore that stupid lameass joke and ask how you’re holding up,” Doc said wryly, as he ignored Trigger’s wit. The joke never got old. “Gunny told the rest of us what’s been happening. I’m sorry to hear about your friend. Are we going to be heading to Old Miss sometime soon?”

“I appreciate that, but no travel plans that I can anticipate.” Trigger sat down and held up the first work order. He read the first name. “Hugh Locket. No address and no phone number. He stopped in for an oil change on a 2015 BMW i8 Mississippi plate Romeo Mike November 695 and stayed around asking probing questions about the residents of Amberton while Joey completed the job. I need a background check done, as well as a current address so I can reach out to him.”

“Next,” Gunny ordered, his tone indicating he was in full team leader mode. It was nice to have the support.

“Reid Tollison. He’s a local. Lives on the outskirts of town with his wife and has four grown children. He’s in his early sixties, but it appears the mileage on his stakebed is three times what it should be considering he’s a farmer and rarely leaves town.”

“Are you serious? That’s what qualifies as a lead in rural Mississippi?” Doc inquired with a little disbelief and Trigger didn’t blame him, but Joey had marked the mileage down for a reason. It was odd, considering everyone in town knew the Tollisons. They weren’t travelers, but in one year had accumulated twenty-five thousand miles on an old beat-up Chevy one ton. Who was taking the vehicle those long distances and why? “This is wrong on many levels, man.”

“Trust me,” Trigger agreed, rubbing his burning eyes as he held the receiver in between his ear and shoulder. “I know. These townsfolk are good people and I have no idea why Joey would have kept these types of notes on them. I’m not a fan of prying into people’s personal business for no reason either.”

“But it is a motive for murder if one of them thought your friend was keeping tabs on something that could incriminate them in some way.”

“Agreed,” Trigger concurred, not happy about this situation at all. Mac’s garage wasn’t meant to be used in such a manner. Joey could have accidentally precipitated the events that led up to his own death. Trigger still didn’t know what he was going to do with the place once he went back to San Diego. Mac wouldn’t have wanted it to close, but Joey’s death had changed things for everyone involved. “Justin Yeatman, another local. Joey and I went to school with him, but according to this tidbit of information…he’s driving a vehicle, which costs way beyond his means. He’s some kind of accountant, but I’m not sure if he’s on his own or with a group. He may be into his clients’ accounts.”

“Leasing?” Gunny suggested, obviously making a note to himself to check that bit of info. “I’ll look into it. Next?”

“Luke Stoddard. Again, a local.” Trigger couldn’t even begin to fathom Luke harming anyone. “He used to play basketball with Joey back in the day and I have a hard time believing I’m even having you do a background check on him. He’s a good guy, but Joey was concerned about something because he made a note to
check up
on him. Most likely it’s nothing, but I need to cover all the bases here.”

Trigger spent the next few minutes adding a few more people of lesser note, but the sound of Diesel barking drifted down through the ceiling from Devyn’s bedroom. He abruptly hung up the receiver without any explanation and tore out of the office and up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He hit the living room with his weapon drawn right as Devyn was emerging from the short hallway with Diesel by her side.

“Are you okay?” Trigger asked, already having cleared the main area of any threats. He was about to brush past Devyn when she stopped him, holding up what looked like the television remote. “Devyn, what is it?”

“Luke Stoddard’s body was just found out at Jester’s,” Devyn whispered, clearing her throat while trying to say more. The color had long faded from her face and she didn’t hesitate to lean against him when he drew her close. “John, he was doused with gasoline and set on fire. He’s dead.”

‡

D
evyn had spent
the morning helping Isaac get ready for the incoming crowd, doing preps for the bar and the small kitchen. Very few people understood what it was like to run a small service-type business. Taking inventory was a constant evolution and making sure there was an approximate amount of stock on hand for the demand. Serving drinks of all kinds, not just beer and wine, demanded that dozens of types of liquors, liqueurs, and mixers be stocked.

Isaac was a wizard when it came to mixed drinks of every type. The older ladies enjoyed his newest rum and vodka concoctions during their monthly social meetings. Most of the men in town stuck to their usual whiskey and beer routine; however, they had their single malt scotch drinkers, not to mention those who preferred a rum and Coke.

It was going to be another busy day and the townsfolk needed someplace to gather to talk about what had happened—three of their own murdered within a span of a little over two weeks. Unfortunately, Devyn hadn’t anticipated the uptick in demand in her weekly alcohol order from their distributor. While compiling a list of items to place on the custom order form she’d made in a spreadsheet to track inventory and usage, she’d had time to mull over her behavior after Trigger’s disclosure last night and the subsequent developments.

It was unbelievable and Devyn had never been more grateful for Trigger’s support. She’d thought they’d both let go of what he’d said earlier in the evening, but now she wasn’t so sure. It hadn’t been the time nor place to discuss their personal complications when three people they had both known rather well were suddenly dead without explanation.

“Your air unit in the back doesn’t sound so good,” Isaac said, making his way to one of the high top tables. “You’re going to need to call Brian out again.”

“And give him the rest of his retirement?” Devyn asked wryly, shaking her head in answer. “I don’t think so. I’ll wait until the air conditioning is spewing out heat before I call him.”

“You’re stubborn, is what you are. You could always have Trigger take a look at it, maybe save you some money. Speaking of which, where did Trigger and Diesel head out to so early this morning?” Isaac asked, setting down the last table chair onto the hardwood floor after running a dry mop over the old boards to gather the dust. He’d pulled his hair back into a hair tie and he appeared slightly on edge, which was unusual for his serene disposition. “I brought leftovers for Diesel this morning from the diner, but the Jeep was already pulling out before I could say anything to Trigger.”

“John drove into Corinth to follow up with Detective Chaisson.” Devyn checked her watch and noted it was almost time to open the doors. She’d rather be with Trigger than here, but it was for the best until the detective figured out if the three cases were related. It seemed outrageously obvious to those close to town. How could they not be? “They’ll be here later and I’m sure Diesel will wolf down the leftovers for dinner and probably the Styrofoam container too.”

“You can head into your office, Devyn,” Isaac offered, situating the umpteenth bowl of peanuts so that it was directly in the center of one of the tables. “I can take care of the crowd and Erwin should be in before two o’clock this afternoon to handle short orders.”

“No,” Devyn replied, even though she appreciated the pass he was giving her. It was time she be herself and face the scrutiny of the crowd with her head held high. She also needed to have a long talk with John about what he’d said last night, but it would have to wait until after closing tonight. This bar was her livelihood and would be after he was gone back to his job in San Diego. “I’ll help out behind the bar and the kitchen today, especially since—”

“Look.” Isaac directed her attention toward the television screen they’d had on in the background usually reserved for sports on any given Sunday afternoon.

“…believe there is a connection between the murders of Ken Feragon, Joey Wilde, and Luke Stoddard,” Detective Chaisson announced into the numerous microphones being directed toward him. He pushed his glasses up with his index finger and zeroed his blue eyes directly into the middle of the screen. “All three men were from Amberton and they all attended the same high school during the same period. We’re asking that anyone with information call the number on the bottom of the screen. There will be…”

The door opened, pulling Devyn and Isaac’s eyes away from the screen to see who had just walked in. It was Micah Kilgore and Dalton Linney, which wasn’t surprising since both of them weren’t currently holding steady jobs. They’d been talking to one another but stopped the moment they caught sight of the television Devyn and Isaac had been watching.

“Did they find out who killed Luke yet?” Dalton asked, walking over to the nearest table to the television and pulling out a chair. His bloodshot glassy eyes were glued to the screen, giving way to the fact that he was most likely higher than a kite. Isaac gave a brief nod to Devyn to let her know not to worry. He’d keep an eye on their first customers and make sure this duo kept their side business dealings outside of her establishment. “We were at Jester’s until the middle of the night. Dude, everyone is thinking we have a serial killer in Amberton. We might even get featured on one of those FBI who-done-it shows where they do all that behavioral analysis crime scene stuff.”

Devyn didn’t bother to correct Dalton, but instead walked behind the counter and snatched a bar towel off of the small pile Isaac kept in the corner. She flung it over her shoulder and then used the hairband around her wrist to secure her hair at the base of her neck. She went through her normal routine all the while trying to get what Dalton said out of her mind. Serial killer? That wasn’t possible, was it?

“I thought serial killers murdered people in an identical manner and for similar reasons,” Devyn asked Isaac in a rather low tone so that Micah and Dalton couldn’t overhear her. She grabbed two iced mugs and filled them both with a domestic draft she had on sale. The two men didn’t like to spend a lot of money on their alcohol. “They weren’t. Do you think they all knew something that put their lives in danger for the same objective? Doesn’t that make more sense?”

Devyn thought back to the work orders of the garage and mentally speculated about the people Joey had been keeping tabs on. What if Joey had mentioned his suspicions to one of his friends regarding someone and that person had found out? She set the two beer mugs on the counter and slid them across to Isaac, who was waiting to take Micah and Dalton their drinks.

“Nothing makes sense about this,” Isaac stated, nodding in her direction. Devyn wasn’t sure why he was doing that until he spoke. “I brought in my Remington 870. The police have yours locked away in evidence and I’m not so sure you even want it back, but we need protection just in case the killer shows up here to make some kind of statement.”

Devyn hadn’t even thought to reclaim the shotgun that had killed Joey, but Isaac was right. She didn’t want it around anymore. She’d have Trigger claim it at some point after they uncovered the truth about Joey’s murder. He could do whatever he wanted with it. Maybe he could give it to one of his friends. After all, it was a just a tool and it wasn’t to blame for Joey’s death. That was the sole responsibility of the person who pulled the trigger. Just the same, though…keeping it around would be a bit morbid.

“You did the right thing, Isaac,” Devyn said with a small smile of gratitude. The glare from the sun coming in from the door held her attention until she saw it was more customers and not Trigger. He wouldn’t have been back just yet, but she didn’t like that he was out there with someone targeting men from Amberton. She itched to call him and ease her mind that he was all right, but more people were filing in. She wouldn’t be that woman who needed constant reassurance, so she pasted a smile on her face and greeted one of her newly arrived customers. “Mr. Fowler, what can I get you?”

*