STATE OF ANGER: A Virgil Jones Mystery Series (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 1) (10 page)

Sandy moved toward him and leaned
in close, her mouth right next to his ear. “I know what you thought, Jonesy.”
She kissed him on the cheek, then leaned away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Then, almost as an after thought, “You look pretty good your own damn self.”

Virgil watched her walk to the
back of bar. So did everyone else in the room.

__________

He moved behind the bar and pulled
Delroy aside. “A minute ago you said something.”

“What’s that, mon? Delroy always
saying one ting or another, no?”

“When Sandy came in. You said,
‘here comes your woman.’

Delroy laughed and shook his head.
“I also say it probably not my bidness.”

“Yeah, you did. But she’s not my
woman. She just works for me.”

“Yeah, mon. Dat’s all right. You
keep telling yourself dat.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Delroy put his hand on Virgil’s
shoulder. “I’m just a happy-go-lucky Jamaican bartender. What do I know?”

Virgil scratched the back of his
head. “I don’t understand.”

“Hah. I tink you do. I grew up wid
my family, you know? We live right by the beach. When I was little, after
school get out, I’d run and play in the water. Sometimes when I do I see a fish
and tink to myself, ‘there go a fish.’ Simple as dat, mon. Plain as day, no?”

“But what did you mean about
Sandy?”

“Delroy mean what he say. I say
here come your woman, then it mean here come your woman.”

Virgil caught the twinkle in
Delroy’s eyes. “But you said
my
woman.”

“Uh huh. Dat’s true.”

“Is there something I should know,
Delroy?”

“Yeah, mon. There sure is. Maybe I
draw you a map. You and that one,” he tipped his head toward Sandy, “you were meant
to be together. It written all over the both of you, plain as day. Just like
the fish, no?” Delroy made a swimming motion in the air with his hand and
grinned at him the whole time.

When Virgil turned and looked at
the table in the back he saw Sandy looking and him.  He thought about going over
and joining them, but then someone else walked in the front door and he
discovered his evening was far from over.

14

__________

I
n
the dim light of the bar Virgil couldn’t immediately tell who it was, but it
didn’t take long before he recognized his familiar stride. The house band was
playing an unfamiliar tune and the bass drum thumped through Virgil’s chest
until it was no longer a drum beat, but an explosion from over a decade ago
when their HUMVEE was stopped in the sand and he was out in the dark with only
his .45 and a pair of faulty night vision goggles in territory unknown to a
young Lieutenant from the heartland whose orders were to kill on sight, no
questions asked. One of his men, Murton Wheeler, had asked to stop the vehicle
so he could relieve himself, and when he didn’t come back, Virgil went looking
for him. He found him about thirty yards from the HUMVEE, sipping on a flask
filled with whiskey while simultaneously urinating on the body of a dead Iraqi
Republican Guard. When the armor-piercing round hit our vehicle, the explosion
knocked them both to the ground and the smell of phosphorus hung in the air as
the three remaining men inside the troop carrier burned to death before they
could escape the twisted wreckage. It was the second time in Virgil’s life that
he had almost burned to death and those thoughts hung in front of his vision
until he heard a voice pulling him back.

“Hey, Jonesy, you okay? How about
a double Jack with a beer back?”

Virgil blinked the vision away and
looked at the man on the opposite side of the bar. Murton Wheeler stared at him
as Virgil took a glass from the shelf under the bar and filled it with tap water
and set it on a coaster. “This is on the house. You won’t be drinking here,
Murt. Not tonight. Probably not ever. Are we clear on that, soldier?”

Murton sipped the water, his eyes
locked on Virgil’s, then set the glass gently on the bar. “It was a long time
ago, Jonesy.”

“Not long enough, Murt. Heard you
were in Westville. Assault or something like that, wasn’t it?”

Murton ignored the question as the
jab it was and instead looked back over his shoulder at the front door. When he
spoke again, his voice was soft but his eyes were rimmed in anger. “Look, Loot,
I’ve got some information you should have. I give you what I think you ought to
know, and I’m outta here.”

“You’re taking liberties you do
not have when you call me Loot. Everyone calls me Jonesy. You can call me Sir,
or Detective Jones. Are you getting the picture here, Murt?”

Murton snapped to attention,
saluted and said, “Yes, Sir.”

Virgil wanted to drop him where he
stood, but instead lowered his voice and said, “Knock that shit off. “What
exactly is it you want, Murton?”

But before he could answer, the
front door opened again and two men walked in together and scanned the bar,
obviously looking for someone, but they made a mistake when they looked at the
tables and booths before they looked at the bar, and that gave Murton the time
he needed. He reached for his glass and lobbed it overhand toward the opposite
wall. As a diversion, it was very effective. The glass arched through the air
end over end like a poorly punted football and before it landed he placed both
hands along the brass railing in front of the bar, swung his legs up and
vaulted over the top like a gymnast mounting a pommel horse. When the two men
turned toward the sound of the glass shattering against the wall, Murton looked
at Virgil, winked and said, “Gotta boogie, Jones man. These boys are a little
upset with me right about now. I left your tip under the coaster. Keep your
powder dry.” He then picked up a cardboard case of empty beer bottles from the
floor in front of the freezer and placed it on his shoulder, blocking the view
of his face as he walked toward the back of the bar and through the doorway
that leads to the kitchen.

The two men gazed at Virgil for a
beat before they started toward the back. Virgil moved with them, along the
length of the bar, his hideaway .25 caliber semi-auto in his left hand, behind
his back and out of sight. It was then that he recognized that they were the same
two men who had escorted him back to Samuel Pate’s office earlier in the day. He
held up his right hand as a signal for the two men to stop and said, “Sorry
fellas, employees only past this point.”

The shorter of the two tried to
sidestep him and squeeze past into the kitchen, but Virgil matched his maneuver
and kept him in his place. “The band’s really cranking it out tonight, aren’t
they?” Virgil said. “I guess you didn’t hear me before. Employees only past
this point.”

The commotion caused by Murton
tossing his glass against the far wall as a diversion had subsided, but Virgil
noticed Rosencrantz and Donatti watching him and when they saw the two men try
to get by him, they separated and walked up behind the men from different
directions. Virgil slipped his gun into his back pocket and crossed his arms in
front of his chest. It was now three on two. Rosencrantz stepped up close
behind the two men and said, “How’s it going, Jonesy? Think we could get
another pitcher over at our table?”

Virgil looked at him and said,
“Right away, Rosie. These guys were just leaving, but they’re having a little
trouble distinguishing the front from the back. Help them out, will you?”

The two men turned and looked at
Rosencrantz and Donatti, then back at Virgil, who let them have word. “Tell Wheeler
to get in touch next time you see him,” the tall one said. “Like I said, we
need to talk with him.”

Rosencrantz and Donatti muscled
the two men out the front door and came back inside a few minutes later.
Donatti walked behind the bar and ran his knuckles under the tap for a few
minutes. Rosencrantz stood there and just smiled. “What happened?”

“Not much,” Rosencrantz said. “My
guy didn’t want to fight. The other one tried to throw a sucker punch at Ed. He
missed. But then his ball sack decided it wanted to launch itself at Ed’s knee,
and when that didn’t work he tried throwing his jaw as hard as he could into
Ed’s fist. Twice. Sort of an unconventional style if you ask me. I think those
guys might have been dropped on their heads as infants.”

“Where are they?”

Donatti grabbed a dishtowel and
wiped his hands dry. “We helped them to their car and sent them on their way.
It was either that or take them downtown. The paperwork’s a drag.”

“Yeah, we’d be up all night,”
Rosencrantz said.

“Do me a favor, will you?” Virgil
said.

“I think we just did,” Rosencrantz
said.

“Uh huh. Run a sheet for me
tomorrow morning on a guy named Murton Wheeler. Let me know what you get.”

“No problem, Jonesy,” Donatti
said.

Rosencrantz grabbed a handful of
peanuts from a dish on top of the bar and tossed them in his mouth. “Hey, I was
serious a minute ago. Can we get another pitcher of beer?”

Virgil had a waitress take another
pitcher over to their table and tear up the ticket she had going, then 
remembered what Murton had said about his tip being under the drink coaster. When
he moved the coaster he discovered a safe-deposit box key, the words ‘
do not
duplicate
’ stamped on one side, and Sunrise Bank on the other.

He thought,
huh.

__________

An hour later he was home. It was
late and he thought about going to bed, then thought,
fuck it
, and
grabbed a beer before going outside where he propped his ass in a chair and his
feet on the upper rail of his back deck. The night was clear and calm and when
Virgil looked up at the stars it made him think of his mom, gone now an entire
year.

His beer wasn’t even half gone when
the doorbell rang. He checked the time again, saw that it was just after
midnight then pulled his .25 auto hideaway from his pocket for the second time
of the evening and went to the door. When he saw who was there Virgil felt his
knees get a little weak.

“I’m not wearing a watch,” Sandy
said, “But I’m pretty sure it’s tomorrow.”

__________

Virgil tried to smile in a cool
sort of way but even as he did he was fairly certain he ended up looking like a
schoolboy with an ‘aw shucks’ kind of look on his face, though he did manage to
get a grip on himself and invite her inside. When he flipped on a few lights he
heard Sandy take in a breath.

“My god, Jonesy. This is
beautiful.”

Virgil had designed the house himself,
going through three different builders in the process before he found one who could
get it just right. Double doors lead from the foyer into the great room with a
massive fireplace made entirely of fieldstone he’d collected from the building
site. The floors and walls were all wood, a mixture of natural pine, cherry,
oak, and maple, all blended together that gave the interior a colorful, yet
natural look.

“Thanks. It was a lot of work at
first. Took over two years to build from the time I bought the site. Sometimes
it seems like a little more work than I’d like, but then every year when summer
rolls around and you can sit out back on the deck at night it all seems pretty
much worth it. In fact, that’s what I was doing just now, sitting on the deck,
finishing my beer. Want one?”

“Sure.”

He handed her a beer, then leaned
against the counter and watched her wander around the great room for a minute
taking it all in. When she circled her way back she tilted her head to the side
and just looked at me. Virgil started to think about it, but then just as quick
he stopped thinking and pulled her close and pressed his body into her. He felt
her press back. Just as he started to move his lips toward hers, Sandy pulled
back and said, “Jonesy, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to
see me.”

He laughed. “Yes to both.” Virgil
took the gun from his pocket and set it on the counter and when he did, Sandy
started to laugh too.

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sandy said.
“It’s so…little. I guess I just imagined it would be bigger”

“Hey….”

__________

Sandy: “Listen, uh, do you mind if
I freshen up a little. I love your bar and everything, but I sort of smell like
barbeque sauce or something.”

“Don’t ever let Robert hear you
say that. It’s called jerk sauce, and it’s his specialty.”

Sandy cocked an eyebrow at him.
“You’ve got the hottest woman in the county standing in your house after
midnight and you’re worried about what your cook thinks?”

Virgil felt himself redden. “No,
no. I’m just saying……”

Before he could go on, Sandy stood
on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Where’s the bathroom?”

__________

After he walked her to the master
bathroom and showed her where the towels were, she gave him a little girly wave
then closed the door. Virgil heard the lock click and thought,
hmm
. He
decided that it was some kind of signal so he left the bedroom and went back
out to the deck.

She had a little tease in her, he
thought. He wondered if she wanted him to tease back. He thought about  trying
it out, even played some scenarios around in his head, then thought, fuck it,
but he got lost in the thought long enough that he didn’t hear her when she
came up from behind and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I thought you’d be waiting for me
in the bedroom.”

She had put one of Virgil’s white
dress shirts on. Her hair was still wet, slicked back from her forehead. Little
drops of water had dripped from her hair and they left dark spots on the
shoulders of the shirt. She had the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and only
one button half way down holding it closed. “I thought maybe…I mean, I wasn’t
sure…”

“You think too much, Jonesy.” She
reached up and unbuttoned the shirt, slinked her shoulders back and let the
shirt slide to the floor. She took a half step back and said, “Are you sure
now?”

__________

Sidney Wells, Jr. sat on her front
porch, a cigarette at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes moved back and forth
between the little pile of ash at her feet and the street corner a half block
away. She saw the headlights sweep through the turn, then extinguish as the car
pulled up and stopped in front of the house. Amanda Pate climbed out, tugged a
bit at her skirt, then walked up and sat down next to Junior. “The fuck you
been?” Junior said. “You’re over an hour late.”

Amanda picked up the pack of cigarettes
next to Junior, shook one out and lit up. “Samuel was up late. I had to wait
until he took his sleeping pills. I told you it might be a while.” She took a
long drag and held her smoke for a few seconds before blowing it out the corner
of her mouth. “So, anyway, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are,” Junior said. “And
I still think it’s a bad idea. We agreed we were going to lay low until this
was over. That was the plan, anyway. So what’s so fucking important that you
had to come slumming down here after midnight?”

Amanda lifted her ass off the
porch a little and tugged at her skirt some more. “I’m just nervous,” she said.
“It threw me a little when the cops came to my house today. And it wasn’t just
any cop. It was Virgil Fucking Jones. I know him, Sid. Or knew him, anyway. I
went to high school with him.”

Junior snorted. “Uh huh. What was
that, twenty years ago?”

“That’s not the point.”

“So what is?”

“The point is what I just said. I
know him, or knew him anyway. We had a thing. It was a one-time thing, but I
never forgot it, or him. I’ve sort of followed him his whole career.”

“So?”