by CeeCee James
“Please Georgie,” she said. “Please help us."
Her plea plucked my heartstrings. I could tell she was desperate.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you guys, don’t you worry. Everyone knows Joe couldn’t have done this. We're going to find some answers”.
“Georgie, there are people in jail right now that are innocent. Sometimes, the police just take the easiest answer.”
“And why would they do that?”
“Sometimes it's because the public demands justice. We all want open and shut cases, and when we see one like that, we’re quick to judge.”
“Well, Jefferson and the police I know in Gainesville aren’t like that. Half of them know Joe personally. They have to recognize it's not him.”
“You have more faith in human nature than I do,” Kari murmured.
I decided to change the subject. “How are the kids doing?”
“Well, Christina seems to be doing okay, in her usual happy Christina way. Colby’s been pretty down. He wouldn’t go to baseball practice last night no matter how hard I tried. He said the kids were making fun of him. Calling him the son of a killer.”
I was shocked. Kids could be so cruel. “That makes me want to be there when he goes to practice,” I said
“It’s hard to know what to do without making it worse,” Kari answered.
“We're going to figure this out,” I reiterated. “This isn’t permanent. I’m convinced there is an answer right around the corner. And I'm pretty sure I'm close to finding it.” I said it with enthusiasm that I didn't feel. I didn't want to give her false hope. But right now, I couldn’t take the sound of my best friend’s voice filled with dread and worry. “You guys are tough. And you have a strong family. You guys will get through this.”
“I sure hope so,” Kari mumbled. “Joe is already talking about me going back to live with my mom in Tennessee. He says, he guesses she was right about him all along.”
I pulled into the gas station and parked next to the pump. “No!” I yelled. “Don’t be thinking like that. Not yet. We have to give everybody some time to figure it out.”
“I don't know, Georgie,” she said. “But I am glad that you're looking into it. You do have a knack for these things. I know if anybody can find the answer, its probably you.”
Her vote of confidence in me actually depressed me more. But I went with it and said, “You bet. I'm not going to let you down.”
She said her goodbyes and hung up. I felt exhausted, and my head slumped into my hands. It was barely lunch time and already my day was falling apart. I had to find proof that Mikey did it. I couldn’t let Kari down.
A horn beeped behind me. I looked back to see a man with his hands in the air.
“Come on!” he yelled.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and jerked myself from the car. I didn’t dare look at the guy again, afraid of what I might say, as frustration and anger tumbled around inside me like a fiery tornado.
The gas can snagged on the back of the seat as I pulled it out. Anger rose even more as I struggled to yank it out. Now I wanted the guy to honk again just so I could blast him.
But he didn’t, seemingly interested in his phone by the time I finally got the can out of the car and glared at him. I was even more infuriated that he didn’t see my dirty look. I knew how to give a good one—death stare Georgie, they once called me.
Whatever. I filled the can and set it in the trunk this time. I slammed the hood and headed inside to pay.
It was rare I had cash. I pulled the twenty out of my pocket, all wrinkled, with the appearance that it had been kept in a cave. When I worked with the estate firm, I had a platinum American Express. It felt like years since I’d had any real money. I grabbed a package of corn nuts and slid it over the counter. I felt like being a big spender today.
“Having a good day?” the attendant asked. He was older than me and in good shape. I must have been smiling because he grinned back. “Or did you win the lottery?”
“I’m just laughing because my big splurge is on corn nuts.”
He picked them up and flipped them over. “Hey, don’t knock corn nuts. These are good.”
“Yeah, they are. Also the gas on pump eight.”
He found the charge and rang it up. His hair was long and fell over his eyes like a horse’s forelock. Suddenly, he looked very familiar.
“Do I know you?” I asked. A flush filled my cheeks after the words left my mouth because they sounded like a cheesy pick-up line.
But his reaction made my blush disappear. He ducked his head, pulling his hat lower, and shook his head. “No, I don't think so. I'm pretty new to the area. Me and the missus just moved here from Callawalkie.”
I nodded and held out the twenty dollars. He didn’t look that familiar. In fact, I might have dismissed it entirely except for a nervous little shrug he gave as he took my money. I noticed his shirt sleeves were rolled barely above his wrists, despite it being a hot day. But I thought I saw something peeking out from underneath the cuff. It sent bells off in my mind, but I couldn’t get a good look at it. Was it what I thought it was?
I stared at him again and then tried to soften it with a smile. “Are you sure I don't know you?”
This time he didn't bother to answer. He just passed over the change with a mumbled, “Here’s your two fifty in change, ma’am.”
I accepted it. The attendant made a move like he was going to turn away when I reached out and grabbed his wrist.
It was a bold move I know it was. I shocked myself by doing it.
“Well, we’re glad to have you in the neighborhood. Gainesville is a great place. Hope you get some time to really explore the area,” I said, trying to sound like someone from the welcome wagon committee.
He stared at me in surprise. I moved my hand off his arm, but as I did, I pushed his sleeve up a tiny bit. To distract him, I chattered happily, “Have you checked out the fried chicken place down the street?” I asked.
“Fried chicken place?” he asked, echoing me. “Why no, ma’am. I have not.” He gave me a smile, and I grinned back. My eyes dropped to his arm where a fanged snake’s mouth showed curled above the wrist.
It was him. The construction guy from the picture with Wendy and Devon. I didn’t know what this meant though. He nodded to me, and I took my stuff and left feeling confused.
Thoughts ran through my mind as I got in the driver’s seat. Was that a common tattoo? He felt familiar and not just from that photo. I thought about the bar. It had been too dim in the establishment to be positive if I’d seen him there. No, I had a feeling it was someplace else. Somewhere recently.
I covered my face and groaned. Why was my brain teasing me like this? It kept dancing the memory away. I squished my eyes hard as if that would help me to remember, waiting for the lightbulb to go off.
Well, no lightbulb went off, but a ding from my phone notifying me of a text message did.
I sighed in exasperation and shot the guy behind me a look in my rear view mirror. He wasn’t there, must have gone around me while I was in the station. I picked up my phone, frustrated I couldn’t even yell at someone right. I opened it to read a text from Robert Croker, the coroner. — You here, yet?
Chapter 18
I felt dizzy with shock. I’d forgotten about our meeting! How could I do that? Hurry and fix this, Georgie! Panic gripped me. Do I lie and say I’m only five minutes away? I checked the time and groaned. Rolling my eyes at my stupid mistake, I typed back, — stuck in traffic. Be there soon.
I shifted the car into gear and sped out of there so fast I made the little tires squeal.
How long would it take me to get there? I gritted my teeth in frustration and used voice commands to make my GPS route to the deli. I nearly threw the phone when the voice declared it would be thirty-five minutes.
I pulled onto the highway as guilt consumed me. I couldn’t do that to Croker, make him wait like that. I merged into the middle lane and set the cruis
e control. Then I dialed him and put it on speaker.
“Hello?” His voice was deeper than I remembered.
“Hi, Mr. Croker. This is Georgie Tanner.”
“I figured it was you since this call is coming from your number.” He laughed. He sounded friendly, but not flirty. More like a Santa Claus you bump into outside a coffee shop after his shift is over.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” I laughed in return, but my laughter sounded tinny and fake to my ears. “Listen, I have a confession.”
“Let me guess, you aren’t stuck in traffic.”
I bit my lip. He already knew! That should make my confession easier, but the words stuck in my throat. I was so afraid he was going to want to reschedule, and I would be left hanging even longer with my questions about Derek’s death.
“Ms. Tanner?” he asked, sounding concerned. “Are you okay? Maybe we should wait on this. I know it was a traumatic event. These things take time—”
“No, that’s not the problem,” I rushed to explain. “The truth is, our meeting escaped my mind until the moment you texted. I’ve been so caught up in a friend’s personal crisis that she’s dealing with right now, I must have forgotten to put it on my calendar. I’m so sorry.”
“I see. Where are you exactly?”
“I’m…” I glanced at the time on the GPS and made a face. Just spill it. Rip the band-aid off. “I’m about twenty-seven minutes from you right now.”
“So, you still want to have the meeting?”
“Yes,” I gushed in my eagerness. “Yes, very much so.”
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll be enjoying one of the deli’s dark ales and a turkey sandwich while I wait. I’ll see you soon.”
“Thank you so much!” I said, but he’d already hung up. It might have been an abrupt goodbye, but he didn’t sound angry. And he was waiting for me. All wins in my book!
I sped a bit on my way and actually made it to the Deli in twenty minutes. I squeezed into one of the remaining parking spots, once again thankful for the VW’s small size, gave the flower a pat for good luck, and ran inside.
The light in the restaurant was muted. I stood in the entryway by the cash register and chewed my thumbnail as I looked around. Please tell me Croker didn’t leave!
Relief flooded through me when I spotted an older man sitting at a back table. He saw me at the same time and lifted his beer.
A waitress came over to help me.
“It’s okay. I see my friend,” I said, and hurried over to his table.
“Ms. Tanner?” he asked.
“Oh, Georgie’s fine,” I said, scooting into the booth to sit across from him. “Thank you so much for waiting. Again, I’m so sorry.”
He smiled. With his white hair and pink cheeks, he did sort of look like a skinny Santa. “You know, I don’t normally meet with people like this. In fact, I never do. But I remember this case. Actually, I was thinking about it the other day.”
A waitress came over then with a menu and a glass of water. I tried to squelch my frustration at being interrupted. She was just doing her job. I ordered a Club sandwich, and he ordered a pastry with streusel topping.
When she left, I leaned forward. “You were saying?” I had to remind myself to breathe.
“I was saying, I was just thinking about this case recently. Derek Summers. A suicide off the Tiger Mountain.
“Yes!” I nodded. “Yes, that’s him.”
“Yet you were behind him.” His gaze softened.
“Yes, I was,” I acknowledged sadly.
“How are you doing with that. Today?”
“Honestly, I’m confused. I never believed it was suicide, not once. It was the fire marshal that insisted that was the case.”
“Mmm, I remember.” He raised an eyebrow. “It seems we both may have been duped, hmm?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, my diagnosis was based on his examination of the vehicle. When he said there was no effort made to stop, that the brakes were in working order, and there was a suicide note, it was easier to rule it a suicide.”
“A suicide note? There was no suicide note.”
He leaned back. “And apparently, there is no fire marshal Barnett.”
I sank back in my chair and fanned myself. “Who was he then?”
“He was a man who forged all the right credentials to fool someone like me. He appeared as a law enforcer, besides being at a fire department. I’d say someone went through a lot of trouble to make sure Derek’s death was covered up.”
I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my breathing. “I found him again. The Barnett guy. He signed off on another accident that involved Midnight Trucking.”
“Midnight Trucking? You know of them?”
My face felt hot. Would Croker still take Derek’s death seriously after I told him that my fiancé used to work for the trucking company?
I was saved from having to answer by the waitress bringing over our food. She set the plates before us. I unfolded my napkin, still trying to find the right words to explain to him.
“Mm, this is delectable,” he said, after sampling a tiny corner of the crumbly topping. “If only all things in life were this sweet.”
“It might be sweet, but it’s only safe to eat in moderation.” I have no idea why I piped up with that little ditty. Maybe to remind myself, the doughnut queen.
“Moderation,” he said. “Spoken like a true realist. We must have the sour to appreciate the sweet, the storms to appreciate the sunshine.” He stared at me again. “Are you ready to continue?”
I nodded. “I found out a short time ago that Derek worked for Midnight Trucking. He’d been hired by them just months before he died. That is to say, I knew at the time he’d been hired by them, but I thought they were a legitimate business that handled moving art safely.”
“And who’s to say your fiancé didn’t think the same.” He took another bite, and exhaled, his large nostrils flaring. “Unfortunately, the fact that you might never know must be torture.”
“Yes,” I nodded. I picked up my sandwich, but I wasn’t sure I could swallow over the lump in my throat. “It’s been the worst part of my recent reality.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I know. Perhaps that will help, perhaps not. Given all the information that I have now, I can no longer say Derek’s death was conclusively by suicide. Which opens the possibility that it was murder.”
“Murder!” I gasped.
“Most definitely, especially given the care of the cover-up by the supposed fire marshal.”
I set my sandwich down. What did this mean? I thought it was all over. Where was Derek’s car? Could there even be an investigation at this point?
“It’s something I’ll be bringing up with our chief of police,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll be hearing more information shortly.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, since so much time has passed, it will be considered a cold case. But take heart. Many cold cases have gone on to be solved.”
I heard what he was saying, but it sounded like the words were coming from a recording that was being played at a slower than average speed. He took another sip of his beer and waited.
“Take all the time you need to process this. I’m sure it will take a few weeks, even.”
I nodded. “Thank you for meeting with me, again.”
He dipped his head. “Not a problem.”
“Before you go, I have a quick question. You mentioned that Derek had been on your mind for a while. Why were you thinking of him?” I asked.
“Well, it’s a funny thing. That fake fire marshal’s name, Barnett, came up as a person of interest in a jewelry heist.”
“The Daffy Duck mask one?” I asked, and took a bite of my sandwich.
“Yeah. You heard of it?” He grinned. “Of course you have. It’s been all over the news. Anyway, a police officer came over the other day to ask me a few questions about that fire marshal. It seems Barnett was in a costume shop recently.”
I swear, if my mouth dropped open any more, you could have seen what color shoes I wore. “Barnett was the one who robbed the jewelry store?”
“That’s what it appeared like. At least at first. Funny thing is, they have a different person on camera posing as Barnett.”
My head was spinning. “So you’re saying someone was using the fake fire marshal’s ID, but it wasn’t the person you met a couple years ago.”
“Yep, you got that right.”
“Was it Mikey McCoy? The owner of Midnight Trucking?” I asked.
“No, not Mikey. It was a guy named Devon. And some skinny guy was his get-away-driver.” I gasped so loudly several people from surrounding tables looked at me. Croker continued. “Yep, that’s him. And get this, Devon was found—”
“Dead,” I finished.
“You know that story too, huh?”
“Devon Walters. He’s a property developer who was murdered in one of his competitor’s houses. Ridgeline Hills Estates.”
“Oh, yeah. I heard of it. The police arrested the Ridgeline Hill’s contractor for it, right? Anyway, no jewels found yet, so that’s a bust. Sure would like to know what he did with them. That Devon, he was a scam artist, but small potatoes compared with Mikey of the famed Midnight Trucking.” He whistled in emphasis.
“Do you think Devon was working for Mikey when he stole the jewelry?”
“Why are you asking? I’m missing the reason why you’re trying to link Devon to Mikey.”
“Because Devon was supposedly in trouble with Mikey. I heard he owed Mikey a lot of money or something.”
“Well, that’s not good. Not good at all. The thing is, a simple stabbing isn’t something Mikey does.” He took the last swig of his beer and wiped his mouth. “Trust me, I’ve signed more than one death certificate. You cross Mikey, you end up with cement shoes.”
I tore a piece of crust from my sandwich. “The police said Mikey had an alibi.”
Croker laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t doubt that, in any case. Still, as I said, Mikey likes to make a splash when he offs someone. He wants it noticed and he wants people to fear him. A knife in the chest is beneath him. Especially if the kid still has all his fingers and toes.”
