Wicked Warning (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 5) (16 page)

Ivy chuckled as she pushed herself to her feet. “Ah, gotcha. I’m coming.” She moved to the boy’s side, internally smiling when she saw him cast her a worried look. “I’m really starting to like your mom.”

“You would,” Douglas grumbled. “She’s a real ball-buster, too.”

“
T
his is a terrible idea
.”

It was shortly after dark when Max ran a hand through his brown hair and stared at the ramshackle bar from the driver’s seat of his truck. He was still dumbfounded how Ivy talked him into going on a mission with her.

“It’s a great idea,” Ivy countered, smoothing the front of her shirt. “Do you think I’ll fit in?”

Max rolled his eyes and glared at the tank top. “You’re going to be so popular I’m going to have to beat men off with a stick,” he said. “This place is full of … a different crowd than you’re used to dealing with. You know that, right?”

Ivy made an exaggerated “well, duh” face. “Are you saying they’re not in there knitting?”

Now it was Max’s turn to make an incredulous face. “When have you ever knit?”

“I could knit.”

“But you don’t.”

As far as brothers go, Max Morgan was the best sibling Ivy could ever hope for. That didn’t mean the duo didn’t enjoy getting under each other’s skin.

“Max, you should be thankful I don’t have knitting needles right now,” Ivy said, her voice taking on a faux sweetness. “If I did, I would stab you with them.”

“Oh, where is the love?” Max asked, shaking his head. He was used to his sister’s empty threats. “Tell me again why we’re out here.”

Coyote Moon was a hole-in-the-wall facility located on the main highway between Shadow Lake and Bellaire. It was known for rambunctious drinking, the occasional drug bust, and a rowdy clientele that enjoyed fighting whenever the mood struck. The county officials had been trying to shut the bar down for as long as Ivy could remember, but it endured – and only people looking for trouble seemed to find it.

“Douglas Dorsey told me his father played in regular card tournaments out here,” Ivy replied. “If Dan Dorsey has friends – and given his attitude, I’m guessing he doesn’t have many – they will probably be out here.”

“And how are you going to determine who is a friend?”

“I’m going to have a drink at the bar and talk to people,” Ivy replied, not missing a beat. “It’s not rocket science. People are chatty when they’re drinking.”

“Chicks are chatty when they’re drinking,” Max clarified. “Men are … different. They don’t feel the need to talk about things just to fill silence. They like the silence.”

“Oh, thank you so much for the gender education,” Ivy drawled. “Are you coming inside with me or not?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Max replied. “First I want to know why you asked me to come out here with you instead of inviting Jack. This seems like it should be a couple’s excursion.”

“Oh, um … .” Ivy was hoping to avoid that question. She should’ve realized Max’s natural curiosity wouldn’t allow that to happen. “Jack is busy at work. They have to deal with the Dan Dorsey fallout – and he still has pending weapons charges – so his day is full.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I … Jack would not be happy with this outing,” Ivy said finally, opting to tell the truth. “He thinks I’m too involved in Jessica’s case as it is. He hasn’t been in town long, but even he’s heard about this place’s reputation.”

“So you’re asking me to go against Jack’s wishes,” Max mused. “I think that I’m supposed to stand with him. You know, because we’re men and stuff. I think I should take you home.”

“Does being a man make you a butthead?”

“Not last time I checked.”

“Then stop thumping your chest and come on,” Ivy said, reaching for the door handle. “What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I just want to see who plays in these card games. Whoever is trying to frame Dorsey knows about his bunker and has one of his own.”

Max was particularly wowed by his sister’s deductive reasoning skills and he grabbed her arm to keep her in the vehicle while he decided how far he was willing to take Ivy’s plan. “And you think they’re going to bring that up while playing poker?”

Ivy shrugged. “Men like to brag about things,” she replied. “They like to talk about who has the biggest gun … or who killed the most animals … or how they’re going to win in a zombie apocalypse. They can’t help themselves from bragging.”

“Now who is trying to educate on the genders?”

Ivy shrugged. “Max, I know you don’t agree with this, but come on,” she prodded. “We’re going to have one drink at the bar and see what we can hear. I have no intention of approaching anyone unless I see a good opening. What harm could it do?”

“I’m going to remind you of those words when this blows up in your face,” Max said, releasing her arm and pocketing his keys. He was resigned to helping Ivy, mostly because there was no way he would let her wander around a place like this without someone watching her back. “When Jack finds out and you have a big fight, though, don’t come crying to me.”

“Duly noted.”

“
T
HIS
place is a hole
.”

Ivy made a face as she forced a smile for the woman behind the bar, a particularly ornery looking blonde with an upturned nose and a shirt plunging so low you could see the lace of her bra poking out. Ivy had a feeling it was a fashion choice, although for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out who would make that particular choice.

“Keep your voice down,” Ivy hissed, pinching Max’s arm as he settled at a barstool next to her. “Don’t insult these people. We’ll never get information if we insult them.”

“Honey, you’re never going to get information out of these people unless you strip naked and do a little dance for them,” Max said. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

Ivy wrinkled her nose. “Do sore thumbs really stick out? And don’t call me ‘honey.’”

“Oh, that’s right,” Max intoned, poking Ivy’s ribs. “Only your beloved Jack can call you that. When he says it he gets a moony look on his face. He’s completely infatuated with you.”

“Whatever,” Ivy muttered, plastering a bright smile on her face as the waitress stopped in front of them to take their order. “Busy night, huh?”

The waitress placed her tongue in her cheek and glanced over Ivy’s shoulder, focusing on the only inhabited table in the bar – where four men sat playing cards – and widened her eyes. “Yes. I’m going to retire off the tips I make tonight,” she deadpanned.

Ivy tamped down her irritation, knowing full well that picking a fight with the waitress was a surefire way to call attention to herself. “Well, it’s still early,” she said. “Things could pick up once everyone eats dinner and stuff.”

“It’s always like this,” the waitress replied. “What do you want?”

“Oh, um … I’ll have whatever is on special,” Ivy said.

“Make that two of them,” Max said, fishing in his wallet and returning with a twenty. “You look familiar. What’s your name?”

Ivy figured Max was flirting with the waitress – which he was notorious for – but managed to refrain from kicking him despite her agitation on behalf of women everywhere. His world famous charm might do them some good this evening.

“Toni Childs.”

Max stilled. “We went to high school together, didn’t we?”

Ivy was surprised as she looked the waitress over again. Now that she’d said her name, Ivy did recognize her. The years hadn’t been kind.

“We did,” Toni confirmed, nodding. “We didn’t run in the same circles, though. I was poor and you were … popular.”

“I don’t think Shadow Lake is big enough to have circles,” Max countered. “I remember you, though. You were really quiet and kept to yourself. How long have you worked here?”

“Since I married the owner the day after graduation,” Toni replied. “Do you want to run a tab?”

Max nodded. “Isn’t Harry Tolliver the owner?”

“That’s the love of my life.” Toni’s tone made Ivy think the man in question was the exact opposite, but she kept the observation to herself. “He sits in his office watching television and I do all the work.”

“Why did you marry him?” The question was out of Ivy’s mouth before she had a chance to think about the intelligence associated with asking it.

“Because I was pregnant and he had access to alcohol,” Toni answered, not missing a beat. “We don’t all have parents who set us up in business and make our lives better. My mother kicked me out of the house when I was eighteen. I didn’t have a lot of options.”

“That’s terrible,” Ivy said, trying not to make a face as she sipped her beer. Whatever was on tap had a lot in common with flat swill. “If the clientele is so small here, how do you guys stay in business?”

“You would have to ask my husband about that,” Toni replied. “I’m not privy to the business dealings … just the work.”

Toni was clearly bitter. Ivy didn’t blame her. Still, Ivy sensed an opportunity and it wasn’t one she was willing to pass up. “Do you know Dan Dorsey?”

“Ivy!” Max’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “Do you remember the conversation we had in the car about being subtle and not doing anything stupid?”

Ivy ignored him. “Dan comes out here often, right?”

Toni narrowed her brown eyes as she met Ivy’s curious gaze. “What do you want?”

“I … want beer,” Ivy said, forcing another mouthful of the acrid liquid down her throat. “I love beer.”

“No one likes the watered down tap stuff we serve here,” Toni argued. “You’re not the type of woman who comes into a bar like this. You clearly want something. Why don’t you do us both a favor and tell me what it is so I can shoot you down and get on with my night?”

Ivy bit back a hot retort and sucked in a calming breath. The pause in the conversation gave Max the opportunity to jump in and fill the silence.

“We want to know who Dan Dorsey’s friends are,” he said, ignoring Ivy’s murderous glare. “Someone set him up to take the fall on a kidnapping, and we figure it has to be someone who knew him. As far as we can tell, the only people who knew him were the guys he played cards with.”

“Max!” Ivy elbowed her brother. “I … he’s … um … .” She had no idea what to say.

Toni ignored Ivy’s outburst and focused on Max’s handsome face. “I saw some of that on the television,” she said. “What happened to that girl was … terrible.”

“It was,” Max confirmed, bobbing his head. “That girl deserves some peace and whoever took her deserves to be locked up. He’s a danger to other kids in the area. Once the media firestorm dies down, he’ll be looking for someone else to put in Jessica’s room.”

“And what do you have to do with that?” Toni asked, sliding her eyes to Ivy. “Is the girl related to you?”

“No,” Ivy answered. “I’ve been spending time with her, though, and she’s terrified of whoever held her coming to reclaim her. The problem is that she never heard a name and has no idea where she was held.

“She was so scared when she ran she didn’t even know what direction she came from,” she continued. “Jessica deserves to feel safe when she goes home. She was malnourished and terribly mistreated.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Toni said, leaning forward so she could rest her elbows on the bar and focusing on the men at the table as she lowered her voice. “That’s Virgil Booth, Marvin Moore, Jim Givens, and Art Jenkins over there. They’re regulars and they all play cards with Dan on a regular basis.”

Instead of glancing over her shoulder, Ivy focused on the reflections in the mirror behind the bar. “Were any of them particularly close with Dan?”

Toni shrugged. “I don’t think Dan was particularly close with anyone,” she said. “He was kind of quiet. The only time he talked was when he was drunk.”

“I told you,” Ivy said, slapping Max’s arm. “Men talk when they’re drunk, too. You said I was making it up.”

Max scowled. “What about bunkers?” he asked, matching Toni’s tone so their voices wouldn’t carry. The loud bar music drowned everything out, which made questioning the barmaid easier. “Do any of them have bunkers that you know of?”

Toni arched an eyebrow. “You really have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”

Max held his hands palms up. “Educate us.”

“All of those men have bunkers,” Toni explained. “They’re all survivalists. They believe the world is going to end any minute and when it happens they’re somehow going to survive because they’re smarter than the rest of the world.

“My husband is that way, too,” she continued. “The entire lot of them are morons, if you ask me. I don’t say anything about Harry’s hobby, though, because it saves me from having to talk to him.”

“Do you have a bunker?” Ivy asked.

“Harry does,” Toni replied, seemingly unbothered about casting suspicion on her husband. “I’ve never seen it. He says if I’m nice to him he’ll save me when the end of the world hits. I told him I was fine fending for myself. His bunker is on his father’s land out by the culverts off of the Cedar River.”

“That’s only about a mile from Dorsey’s property,” Ivy mused. “It’s just on the other side of the water. Jessica didn’t mention crossing water.”

“Listen, I’m not going to make excuses and say my husband is a good guy,” Toni said. “He didn’t take that girl, though. He can’t get it up – which I’m thankful for – and he refuses to go to a doctor because he’s embarrassed by his little problem … and it
is
little.”

Ivy bit her lip to keep from laughing. “What about the others?”

“I wouldn’t call any of those guys great thinkers,” Toni said. “I think they all have bunkers. They have regular meetings to talk about that really crappy food they buy that’s supposed to last for a hundred years. They usually do it here. You have to own a bunker if you’re going to survive the end of the world. That’s what they say, at least.”

Ivy ran her tongue over her teeth as she regarded the men at the table. “Maybe the best thing to do is take photos and show them to Jessica. She might be able to pick out the man who held her.”

“Are you sure it’s not Dan?” Toni asked. “Everyone here was convinced he did it. Virgil was telling anyone who would listen that Dan was a deviant. Since he only has two teeth, I thought that was kind of rich … but what do I know?”

“Jessica said it’s not Dan,” Ivy said, digging in her pocket for her phone. “I’ll just take quick photos and we can be out of here. If Jessica says it’s none of these guys, well, we won’t be any worse off than we are now.”