The Grey Tier (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

THE SHAKING IN MY HANDS didn’t stop until I got behind the bar at Nick’s and mixed myself a Jack and Coke. I’m not a big drinker. But sometimes, well . . . a Jack and Coke is exactly what the doctor ordered. It was the one drink I saw my mother make Daddy three days after the police showed up at the door, speaking in hushed tones. That was when I knew Hannah wasn’t coming home. I can always tell when my dad misses my sister because he’ll ask mom to make him the same drink—just one. I wondered if my father missed me, now, too. Honestly, I really hoped he wasn’t completely disappointed in the choices I’d made so far.

Before heading to the bar, I’d gone home, feeling hopeful Lucas might be there. Or even Bob or Janis, but I was especially hoping for Lucas. But aside from the animals, the house was empty. Cass and Mac did what they could to comfort me.

Cass licked my hand while I sat on the sofa, a cup of hot tea cooling on the coffee table. I wondered what deep spiritual quote she might be sending my way. I had taken up looking up Buddhist quotes on the internet when time permitted. There were some good ones out there. I had even been able to memorize a few.

Perhaps Cass was thinking something like, “Even death is not to be feared by one who has lived wisely.” Honestly though, I wasn’t in the mood for quotes. Especially not from my dog. I rolled my eyes at her, grabbed my tea, and headed out to the patio.

She did not follow.

Mac did, though. He climbed into my lap on the lounge chair and made himself at home. Being a pretty straightforward cat, I’m pretty sure any quotes rolling around in his head were of the, “Give me some damn food,” and “Your lap is comfy” variety. That worked for me.

I sat drinking my lukewarm tea, fat cat in my lap, as dusk set in. No Lucas. No Bob. No Janis. No Hototo, who I would have gladly accepted at this point. I thought more information about power animals and such could prove very interesting. But alas, no insight.

Eventually, when it got too dark to see clearly and those little, nasty black gnats that only come out at night appeared, I shifted Mac off of my lap and went inside. I gave my face a quick wash, threw on a blouse, and sat down at the vanity in the bedroom to dab a little makeup on. I kept the desk neat, with the bare essentials in cosmetics and the handful of eagle feathers, along with a small, semi-shrine for my sister.

I picked up one of the feathers and brushed it across my face, then set it down. Were the feathers the key to my abilities? Did they contain the memory of what happened to Hannah? Were they also the key to keeping me safe? I didn’t know, but I figured they were at the very least a part of the solution. Would I ever find all of the answers? Probably not. But I’d take whatever I could get.

I hoped Lucas could help me as he insisted he could. I hoped we would find out who murdered Nick and why, and I also hoped I would find answers surrounding Hannah’s disappearance. I had no more time to ponder or be melancholy, so I finished my hair and makeup, fed my creatures, and headed out the door.

The bar felt a bit different than usual. For one thing, Gwen Stefani’s voice was singing “I’m Just A Girl”
through the speakers
.
It was loud, fierce, and beautiful, like Gwen herself (yes, I am a huge Gwen Stefani fan). For another, the lighting was different inside. The bulbs behind the bar had been switched over to green, and the bulbs on the customer side were light purple. Had I stumbled into some sort of ‘80s theme night?

That was about the time I fixed myself the Jack and Coke. Mumbles picked his head up from his Southern Comfort and 7-Up and gave me a knowing look. His unpatched green eye gleamed brightly.

“Things change, Evie,” he mumbled. “Not always good. Lights kinda weird.”

I had a dishtowel in my free hand and used it as a buffer between us while I reached my hand out and touched his aging hand through the towel. He didn’t seem to mind. For some reason, I had been very cautious, even more so than with others, at touching either Candace or Mumbles. I really felt both of them had something deep and tragic inside of them that, for the time being, I was not prepared to see. And I’d become even more cautious after I had heard Mumbles sufferings. Eventually, I would have to go there. But for now, I kept the buffers between us. I noticed liver spots sprinkled amongst the wrinkles on Mumble’s hand.

“True, Mumbles, it isn’t always good. But you never know, sometimes it’s for the best.”

“I like your music. Better.”

“Really? You like my music?”

He smiled and nodded. I leaned across the bar and lowered my voice.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded again.

“Why are you here? You seem like a good person. How did you get to the point where you spend almost every night in a bar?”

One seat down, Candace cleared her throat loudly. “Oh, sweet pea, his story is boring. I doubt he wants to talk about it,” she slurred.

“Let’s give him a chance, okay, Candace?” I snapped, feeling frustrated and not a little protective of poor Mumbles. Candace was so controlling of him. I didn’t quite understand their relationship.

Mumbles looked over at Candace and then back at me. “Lost my eye, Evie.”

“I know. How?” I was starting to think I would find the answers to his personal tragedy without a physical touch.

Candace sighed, stirring her drink. “He was a stunt guy back in the day, and he lost it on the set.” She leaned back in the bar stool and crossed her arms.

Mumbles nodded. “On a movie set.”

“Really?” I was going to go out on a limb here, but didn’t feel I had much to lose with my next question. “Were you on a movie set with Nick? Was it a movie he was making?” Neither said anything.

“What? Why so secretive?”

I felt an arm slide around my waist. I hadn’t seen Jackson step behind the bar and sidle up to me. I’d been too intent on questioning Mumbles and Candace. He leaned down towards my ear, his nearness stirring up a confusing mixture of emotions.

“What they aren’t telling you, Evie, is Mumbles here introduced Roger and Nick. Remember Roger? Some say Roger and Nick were the reason Mumbles lost his eye. He was Roger’s stunt double. Back in the day, Mumbles was a pretty good looking guy, a real lady killer. I don’t know the details, but rumor has it Nick and Roger coerced Mumbles, whose real name is Dale Sharp, by the way, into doing a stunt he wasn’t prepared or conditioned for.”

“That’s a crock of shit!” Candace chimed in, clearly angry.

Mumbles didn’t say a word, but I watched Bradley Verne, who had come in a few minutes before, walk up to the bar. Jackson pulled me in closer to him and I squirmed uncomfortably. He leaned into me and whispered, “It’s all true, you little Daphne, you.” He poked me in the ribs. Fortunately the buffer between us was our clothing.

“What?” I tried to pull away.

“Oh come on, like Daphne in Scooby-Doo? Everyone knows you’re snooping around trying to figure out who killed Nick. Don’t bother. You won’t figure this one out.” He shot a pointed look at Candace and Mumbles. “Too many people around here with too many secrets. I am sure they intend to keep them
buried.
”

Bradley reached my side and tapped Jackson on the chest.

“Hey, man, I think maybe you’ve had too much to drink. Let me call you a cab.” He reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “And let go of Evie. I think you’re making her uncomfortable.”

Jackson released me. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” From the look on his face, I couldn’t tell if he gave a crap how I’d been feeling. He shot Bradley a nasty look. “And for your information, I don’t drink anything but iced tea.”

He was right about the tea. I had never seen him drink anything alcoholic, except at Nick’s funeral when he’d had a beer. But Bradley had a point. Jackson was acting like he was on something.

Jackson backed away from me slowly, his arms in the air as if in surrender.

“Thing is, Daphne, I’d be way more concerned about one of these characters harming you. You don’t have to be scared of me. I know the truth.” He winked. Seriously, the guy was starting to creep me out, big time.

“You know, Jackson, maybe you should find a different watering hole to hang out in,” Bradley said, moving in front of me protectively.

“I like it here. You just don’t like me here. By the way, how’s your dad, Brad? Oh and Candace, how about your little secret?”

Candace glared at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black? Every single one of you has something to hide.” Then he looked right at me again. “Even you. It’s just a matter of time before it all comes out.”

I cringed. What the hell was this guy’s problem?

Bradley moved forward menacingly.

“Time for you to go, Jackson. You’re no longer welcome here.”

I half worried Jackson would beat the crap out of Bradley. His threatening demeanor the night George came in was loud and clear in my mind.

“No problem. I’ve got everything I need to put out a fascinating documentary.” Jackson slipped his laptop into an army-green backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He turned back, saluted me, and whistled his way out the door.

I was really getting tired of all the secrets and drama. In the silence following Jackson’s departure, I finished my drink. I pondered what he’d said about Mumbles, Roger, and Nick. And then there was Candace . . . and the snide remark about Bradley’s father. What did Jackson know that the rest of us didn’t?

“Good riddance,” Candace said. “Pay him no mind, Evie.” She waved a hand in front of her drink.

“Did you want to talk?”

I jumped, forgetting Bradley was still standing next to me.

“Sure. But where’s Becky? Who’ll tend the bar?” I said.

“No one’s seen her tonight,” Candace said.

“It’s okay,” Bradley said. “It’s not that crowded, and everyone seems to have what they need for now. Let’s sit over there.” He pointed to the corner booth where Jackson always sat. “One of us can always jump up if need be.”

“Okay.” I poured myself a glass of water and followed Bradley.

“What a day,” he said after plopping down on the bench seat.

“You okay?” I asked. He looked older and strained. He was clearly upset.

“It’s my dad. He slipped into a coma today, and they don’t expect him to come out of it.”

“Oh no! I’m so sorry.” I reached out to touch his hand, but then pulled back. “You said he’s in a retirement home?”

“Yes. Platinum Partners. It’s where the wealthy and wonderful go when they want the best of the best after retirement. Place is amazing and he’s loved it for the past few years. But I think losing Nick has taken it out of him. I can’t get a hold of my wife either to tell her. I left her a message on her cell. But when she has her ‘girls’ nights out, they go to the spa and out for drinks and, well, she’ll call I’m sure once she gets the message.” He sighed.

“She’ll call. I’m sure of it. But you can talk to me for now if you want. I am terribly sorry about your dad. And it does sounds like Nick was a second son to him.”

Bradley nodded, frowning. “Exactly. I have no idea what that ass Jackson was talking about.”

I pursed my lips in distaste. “Yeah, Jackson obviously has some issues.” I glanced around the room, making sure no one needed anything. Mumbles seemed to be slumping slowly onto the bar but otherwise, everything was in order.

“Did it bother you at all? That Nick and your dad were so close?”