“I’m watching my woman to make sure she doesn’t get in trouble.”
Agitation, quick and ugly, bubbled up. “Your woman?”
He broke into a mischievous grin. “I thought that would get you. All the men on this side of the courtyard would think I’m a hero for referring to you that way.”
“The men on that side would kick your butt,” I argued, pointing across the way.
Eliot followed my gaze. “I think I’ll manage to survive.” He turned serious as he focused on Spitz. “Does that guy know his shirt was outdated five minutes after it was popular?”
“It’s all a government conspiracy,” I explained. “God is angry over homosexuality so he’s punishing feminists with a martyr figure today. It’s a diabolical scheme.”
He snickered. “Well, at least you’re making new friends.”
“It’s been a little odd,” I admitted. “What are you doing here? I’m not asking to be a pain. I’m genuinely curious.”
“Jake asked me to help him with crowd control. Apparently John Crawford is about to make a statement and Jake’s worried things are going to get ugly.”
“Really? Jake didn’t mention that to me.”
“I’m sure he didn’t. That would be showing you favoritism.”
“I have no problem when he shows me favoritism.”
“I know. You’re good that way.” He winked and briefly ran his hand over my shoulder before focusing on the lectern. “He should be out in a few minutes. Don’t take it personally if I disappear halfway through the speech. I might have to break up a fight or something.”
“What if I’m the one who gets in a fight?”
“Then I’ll make my decision to intervene based on how big your opponent is.”
“Good thinking.”
“I thought so.” He exhaled heavily and scanned the crowd. “There are more people here today than yesterday. I thought the shooting would’ve frightened people off, but I guess not.”
“Most of the people here like the attention they’re getting — negative or otherwise — so the crowd will only grow as this continues. People will realize the protesters are getting a lot of airplay and they’ll want to be part of it.”
“That’s cynical.”
I shrugged. “The first people here were the ones really interested in the cause. Don’t get me wrong; now that a light has been shined on some of this stuff legitimate protesters will join the cause. Celebrity-seekers will make up the bigger portion of the additions, though. People can’t seem to help themselves.”
“Well, if the crowd gets much bigger it’s going to be a bear to control. I won’t be surprised if Jake shuts this down after another day.”
“He won’t be able to.”
“How do you figure? He’s the sheriff.”
“If he tries to shut this down, both sides will start screaming that he’s silencing their voices. Then Jake will have a bigger problem because people will be screaming ‘First Amendment’ even though they have no idea what the real argument is. It will be a tsunami of bad press that Jake might not be able to survive. He has no choice but to let the protests continue.”
“I didn’t consider that. I guess that’s why he’s so grumpy.”
“Yeah, he has the cranks.” He’s also worried about me, I silently added. This is why. He knows the protests are only going to get worse. I was just about to mention Jake’s warning to Eliot when the microphone screeched and everyone jerked their attention in the direction of the lectern.
There, in the center of everything, stood John. He’d changed his clothes and was clad in presentable khaki pants and a blue dress shirt. He’d washed his hair and shaved, so he looked nothing like the disheveled creature I’d interacted with hours before.
He was paler than I remembered, although that could be because he was in front of a crowd. His hand shook as he adjusted the microphone and gravely eyed the crowd.
“My name is John Crawford,” he started as he waited for both sides to settle. “Yesterday, my son Dan was killed in this very courtyard. Do you want to know why? Because he believed in something. Because he fought for a cause. Because he wanted to make things better for others. He died because he was a good man.”
I was shocked at John’s poise. I didn’t see it coming. As if reading my mind, Eliot stepped closer.
“He’s kind of a natural, huh?” he murmured.
That’s exactly what I was thinking.
“My son had a dream that he wanted to share with the world,” John continued. “It’s the same dream Bart Savage has. No matter what people think, that dream is not to keep women down or treat them as second-class citizens. No, it’s to revere women and raise them to their proper places.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a homemaker,” he continued. “There’s nothing wrong with raising children and making sure there’s a warm meal on the table when the man comes home from work. That used to be the norm. It changed over the years, and our society as a whole is weaker because of it.”
I cast my eyes to Eliot. “You don’t want me to cook for you, do you?”
“You can’t even cook canned soup without burning it. I think we’re good.” Still, sensing my mood, he put his hand on my back. “If this erupts, do me a favor and step back. I don’t expect you to leave, but you could get hurt if both sides go at each other.”
I knew what he was saying, but I didn’t think we were there yet. “It’ll be okay. This needs to percolate a bit before it explodes.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Behind the lectern John continued to drone on. “I will not forget the sacrifice my son made. I will not back down in the face of adversity. I will continue the fight he started. All I ask is that you come with me, that we reform the world we’ve lost in my son’s honor. Let’s take our society back!”
The men to the right (and a few women) roared their approval, fists flying in the air. Those grouped on the left started screaming their discontent. Essentially, the two sides drowned each other out as John stood behind the microphone and smiled. He looked pleased with himself.
“This keeps getting weirder,” I muttered. “It’s like something straight out of a movie.”
“Yeah, a horror movie,” Eliot agreed, protectively placing himself at my back. “This is like a slasher flick gone awry.”
“We just have to find our villain. Is it Freddy or Jason?”
“It could be Michael Myers.”
“Just as long as it’s not Pennywise.”
Eliot involuntarily shuddered. We shared a love of horror movies — good or bad, we weren’t picky — and he knew exactly who I was talking about. “Yeah. That’s what would make this situation worse – a clown.”
“Let’s not test the fates and give anyone ideas,” I suggested, shaking my head as John lifted both his arms in triumph. He was soaking up the attention. “I think we have plenty of human monsters to focus on.”
11 Eleven
Jake’s deputies converged on the courtyard, placing themselves between the two screaming factions. I was a bit surprised that he’d pulled the trigger so quickly, but hindsight had me realizing there was no choice.
If someone was hurt because he didn’t move fast enough, he would be in trouble. Those organizing the protests were going to complain regardless. Safety was his main concern, and he had no intention of letting things get out of hand.
“Go to the other side of the street, please.” Eliot’s tone was serious as he gave me a small shove. The look on his face told me he expected resistance, but I understood where he was coming from and decided to acquiesce.
“Okay.” I immediately retreated, ignoring the odd look he sent me. I recognized suspicion when I saw it, but he promised to help Jake with security, so he had no choice but to stay. “I’ll be fine,” I promised. “I’ll be good.”
Eliot was understandably dubious, but he focused on the screeching participants, which allowed me a clean getaway. Jared Jackson, one of the staff photo
graphers for The Monitor, was snapping away from the empty street as I hit the pavement. He’d wisely picked a spot where he was safe from the brouhaha but close enough to get great art.
“This is awesome, huh?” He was flushed, clearly enjoying himself.
I nodded. “Yeah. Just be careful. Some of those guys are the type to swing first and ask questions later.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll simply tell them I agree with their stance.” He cheekily grinned at me. “Do you want to come over and clean my house later? It might do you some good to learn your place.”
Jared wasn’t the sort to believe any of the bile being spewed. He was, however, a world-class pot-stirrer. “I think I’ll pass. Get as many shots as you can. I have a feeling we’re going to need them. This is going to take over the entire front page.”
“I have no doubt.”
I left Jared to his job and entered the Coney. I wasn’t hungry, but I figured caffeine would do me some good, and I would be able to watch the melee from a booth and think at the same time. My mind was jumbled with possibilities, and John was at the center of them. I had no idea how the guy managed to make himself presentable so fast, but I was officially impressed.
“Do you want something to eat?” The owner of the establishment, Gus, came to my table.
“Just iced tea for now,” I said. “I’ll give up the booth if you get busy.”
“It’s fine.” He waved off the offer. “You’re a regular. And I’m not sure I want any of those people in here. They all look crazy.”
“Some of them are true believers,” I noted.
“Aren’t they the really crazy ones?”
He had a point.
Once he returned with my iced tea, I leaned back and watched the chaos. Thankfully it didn’t look violent, but the occasional glimpses I got of Jake and Eliot told me they had their hands full. I didn’t covet their jobs at times like this.
“I would think you would be in the thick of things out there,” a smarmy voice interrupted, causing me to jolt.
I glared when Tad slid into the booth across from me without invitation. He held a glass of soda and looked thrilled with the scene through the window. “This really is amazing, don’t you think?”
“Amazing?” I could think of a few other words for it. “Stranger Things is amazing. The fact that Serena Williams had a baby and is still dominating women’s tennis is amazing. This is something else.”
“Oh, come on.” Tad made an exaggerated face. “We both know you love wreaking havoc. This protest is right up your alley. Sure, you’re probably on the losing side, but that’s never stopped you before.”
Tad truly was the bane of my existence. Often I couldn’t find the correct words to indicate exactly how much I disliked him. I thought for sure he was out of my hair when he lost his county commission seat thanks to some well-earned political upheaval, but he’d managed to crawl his way back in ... and I wasn’t happy.
“Why are you even here?” I asked, genuinely curious. Tad wasn’t the sort to put himself at risk by joining a dangerous protest. Of course, that could explain why he was hiding in the diner. He wanted to be close, but not so close he was at risk. “Don’t you have things you should be doing before the election?”
“I do,” he confirmed, grinning. “I have a victory speech to write.”
Tad’s victory in the August primaries was still a sore spot. Two candidates had better credentials and either should’ve come out victorious. One turned out to be a murderer and the other a scammer, so Tad won by default. He was running in a highly-Republican area, so I was legitimately worried he would somehow pull out a win in the general election.
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” I said finally, my temper getting the better of me. Tad always brought out the worst in me. Sadly, he knew it. He was like the little brother nobody wanted and he walked around with sharp poking devices — not in his pants, mind you, because he was unarmed in that area — to drive everyone crazy.
He was a proponent of the “any attention is good attention, even negative attention” crowd. I truly hated him. “I’d prepare yourself for some massive disappointment.”
“I think you’ll have to prepare for disappointment,” he countered, his eyes gleaming. “We both know I’m going to win. What’s sad is that I’m going to win thanks to you. If you hadn’t stuck your nose into the primary election, Dick Aiken would’ve won. Then, when he went to jail, we would’ve had another special election and the odds are I wouldn’t have been able to claw out victory there in another crowded field.”
Well, at least he could admit he was a weak candidate. “You’re not going to win.”
“Oh, but I am.”
“No, you’re not.” I was certain of that. “I think your district is going to see a surprise Democrat in your seat.”
“Oh, I love it when you get delusional.” He winked at me before focusing out the window. “I think this trial is going to boost me right over the top. The people in my district are invested in family values. I’m the candidate they will rally behind.”
“Even though your soon-to-be-ex-wife has your children and is telling people you’re hung like a grape?”
Tad’s smile slipped. “She is saying nothing of the sort. Our split is amicable. She ruined the marriage. Everyone knows that.”
“Everyone knows you’re the king of the douches and you’re not going to win this election. In fact ... .”
Gus’s return caused me to snap my mouth shut. Perhaps sensing trouble, he was back to make sure Tad and I didn’t start throwing punches. That was probably wise. “Problem?”
“Yes.” I nodded without hesitation. “Tad has ass crabs and they’re making so much noise that I can’t think straight. You should kick him out.”
Gus furrowed his brow. “Ass crabs?”
“You should probably ask Tad.”
“Oh, ignore her.” Tad slowly got to his feet. “She’s feeling the pinch because she knows she’s going to lose the next round and she simply can’t stand it.”
“I’m not going to lose,” I shot back. “I refuse to lose to you.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
Gus watched him swagger away, shaking his head. “That guy gives politicians a bad name, which is simply mind-boggling.”
“He’s a jerk,” I agreed.
“You shouldn’t let him play you like that. He only came over here to agitate you.”
“He’s good at it. Unfortunately for him, I’m good at it, too. This isn’t over ... and he won’t win that election. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Well ... .” Gus didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. “Do you know anything else about the shooter? The cops were on my roof until well after ten last night looking for evidence. It’s weird that he was on my roof, but what are you going to do, right?”
I slowly shifted my eyes to him. “Wait ... the shooter was on your roof?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you know how he got up there?”
“There’s a stairwell on the other side of the door over there.” He pointed for emphasis. “Two attorneys have offices in that part of the building. No one pays attention. The stairs go all the way up to the roof. I’ve already promised we’re going to install a lock on the stairwell so only the people on the lease can get up there.”
Well, that was mighty interesting. “I don’t suppose you’d let me up there?”
He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Just don’t con Ludington into joining you. I don’t want to get in trouble when you throw him off the building.”
“I promise that won’t happen.”
“Then knock yourself out.”
I WASN’T OVERLY FOND of heights. I didn’t suffer from vertigo or anything, but Eliot was the one who changed lightbulbs because I hated getting on ladders. He found it amusing because I wasn’t one to fall into gender roles but I’d made it clear that any ladder work fell under his purview.
It wasn’t as if the building
was a skyscraper, but I was still nervous as I moved across the top of the four-story building. The courthouse was taller, but the view of the courtyard from my position was clear.
I mimed having a gun and pointing it at the courtyard. Nothing inhibited the view. It was a clean shot.
“What are you doing up here?”
I jumped at Eliot’s voice, turning a smile in his direction when I realized he’d joined me. “What are you doing up here? I thought you were wrangling the crowd.”
“They’re wrangled. They’re back to saying passive-aggressive things and glaring at each other across the aisle.” He moved closer to me. “Are you okay? What are you doing up here?”
“The shooter was up here.”
Eliot arched an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”
“Gus told me. The crime scene team was up here until after ten. Gus has been informed that he needs to get a lock for that stairwell.”
“That’s probably wise regardless.”
We lapsed into silence a moment, both of us staring at the courtyard. I was the one to break it.
“How did you know I was up here?”
“Gus told me. He said you had a run-in with Ludington, which worried him. But he stressed that you didn’t seem suicidal.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. I’m going to take that idiot down if it’s the last thing I do. Technically, I’ve already taken him down but he keeps rising like a freaking zombie.”
Eliot chuckled. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I hate him.”
“I know. I hate him, too.”
“I can’t focus on him right now.” I pursed my lips and extended my arm. “You’re good with guns.”
Eliot shot me a hot and suggestive look.
“Firearms,” I corrected, shaking my head. “You’re such a pervert.”
“Perhaps you simply bring it out in me.”
“I guess. Seriously, though. What kind of weapon would you use to shoot into a crowd?”
Above the Fold & Below the Belt (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 14) Page 11
