by T. J. Jones
"Jasmine. She has a name." Lack of sleep was making me irritable. "It was funny the first couple times, but she's a great kid."
"I know, spunky as hell, that's all I meant. Sorry, I make up nicknames for everybody."
I grinned into the phone. "I do that myself, Sidecar."
"Good one! I might have a tee shirt made. I don't remember the name of the outfit he went to work for, but I'll check my emails and text it to you. Nice talking to you, and good luck with Cletus. If he really has got his shit together, I might even have a job for him. We're busy as hell."
"Thanks for your help and stay warm."
Within a few seconds the text came through. Lights Out Electrical. Interesting name.
"I just have a gut feeling that we're barking up the wrong tree here." Maggie said as she climbed into the passenger seat of my pickup. "I can't imagine Cletus orchestrating a kidnapping from Atlanta. If I was going to take a guess, I'd say it's her father's girlfriend. Maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part, because I know they wouldn't kill her, but Honey seemed pretty bitter that Derrick's daughter is in line for millions and she still has to shake her money-maker to make ends meet. Derrick would do anything she told him as long as it didn't involve work."
"The guy Divine was with didn't strike me as the most honest person either. What was his name again?"
"John something. No, maybe John was his last name."
"John Cox, that was it. John Cox and Derrick Longfellow. Couple of real winners. Not their real names, I hope. How the hell did Jasmine ever turn out so good? Divine seems fairly normal, but she sure can't pick her men."
"Present company excluded, finding a good one is a battle."
"Thanks for that anyway. We're going to have to bring Susan Foster in on this sooner or later. She can access information we can't, and push comes to shove she can call the FBI in."
"So far there isn't much that she could do. The stretch of road where Jasmine's car was parked doesn't get a lot of traffic, and there sure weren't any cameras nearby. We can't ask for tips from the public, obviously. I wonder when they'll call back."
"I doubt they will. By now they tossed Jasmines phone in a canal somewhere, and they wouldn't dare use a burner. They'll figure there's a chance the FBI will get involved, so they won't risk it. I'd guess they'll use the mail. I think that's why they don't seem to be in a hurry."
"But they track down bombers and idiots that send threatening mail to politicians, why not something like this?"
"That takes a whole lot of man power, and most times those are packages. You can drop a letter in a mailbox anywhere, and unless they're dumb enough to walk into a big Post Office with a camera and go to the same place every time, it would be about impossible to track them down. At least in the time we have."
"If it is someone like Honey and Derrick, they would never hurt her, do you think?"
"Even as goofy as those two are, I can't imagine them thinking they could get away with it. Anyone who knows her would have to realize she is going to identify them." I reasoned. "Maybe they think they could convince her to take a cut and claim she didn't know them. Jasmine would never do that, but people expect you to behave the way they would, and even complete idiots think they're smarter than everyone else, especially someone like Derrick Long and Honey. Still, I'm with you, I hope it's someone that knows her."
"You mean, because a stranger would be more likely to kill her?"
"I'm afraid I do. Why would a kidnapper leave the only eye witness alive? Sorry to say it, but they'd probably spend the same amount of time in jail either way."
"You're not making me feel any better, Slater."
"Sorry, but I'm no expert on kidnapping. That's why we need Susan."
"Soon as we get back, we should sit down with Maryanne and explain that. Maryanne thinks she can just hand them a pile of cash and they'll give Jasmine back. It won't be that easy will it?"
"I doubt it."
"Do you have a plan as far as Cletus goes, or is this just busy work to keep my mind off what they might be doing to Jasmine."
Hers and mine both, but I didn't say that. "We have to start somewhere, and until the kidnappers contact us, he's as good a place to start as any. It would be good to eliminate him as a suspect. We don't have the luxury of watching him for long. Tommy talked to his parole officer on the pretext of being sure that Cletus was adhering to the terms of the restraining order. Supposedly he has a room not too far from work and he goes to an NA meeting every night. Model offender, follows all the rules and stays out of trouble. He has a hearing next month, and if that goes well, he's planning to go back to North Dakota. At least that's the story he's telling. Tommy has been planning all along to go to his hearing and make sure that any contact with Jasmine would be an infraction of his probation."
"But he's already done that. Why was he calling her?"
"We can ask him that tonight. Can you get on your laptop and find out where there's an NA meeting near that electrical shop? He doesn't have a car and his bike was impounded, so he either gets a ride, or walks to his meetings. He must be somewhat serious, because he wouldn't have to go every night."
"You ready for round two? Tough guy, like Jasmine said." Maggie laughed lightly.
"Not likely he'll start something when he's on probation. My guess is he's going to be as worried about Jasmine as we are."
It was late in the afternoon before we managed to find the neighborhood of Atlanta where Lights Out Electrical had their shop. It looked to be a thriving business on the north edge of the more metropolitan area of the city. There were a lot of electrical vans coming and going and I did a quick drive-by then drove the six blocks to the little church where Maggie said the nearest NA meeting was taking place in the basement.
The Cletus Johnson I knew didn't strike me as someone who would go to such a meeting. Not to say he didn't need it. The morning of our fight he was about three lines into some sort of powder that had made him mean and tough. Very tough. Cletus was one of those guys that despite being built like a watermelon, was strong as three normal people and quick as any flyweight. Coupled with the fact that he carried about three hundred pounds on his considerable frame, I had felt lucky to escape our last altercation with all my body parts and face intact. I was really hoping he wasn't looking for a rematch.
We parked in the back of a large lot, the best part of a full block from the front door of the Church and sat telling Jasmine stories to each other as we waited to see if Cletus would show up. At a few minutes before six one of the vans designated with a big bolt of lightning on its side pulled up and dropped Cletus off. He waved to the driver, then turned and walked into the church. I had never been to an NA meeting, but I figured it was going to last an hour, maybe more.
"I say we check out his place. Tommy gave me an address. It's a run-down motel a few blocks from here and they rent by the week. For a guy on probation waiting for trial, he seems to be doing alright."
"Probably not the Plaza." Maggie offered.
Not the Plaza, or anything close. At one point in time the road in front of the motel had probably been a busy street and the businesses in the area thriving; not so at this point in time. The old motel was a single-story red structure in need of a paint job and a tow truck to drag a few of the broken down vehicles out of the lot. I didn't want to be too quick to judge since I was driving a rust bucket myself, but three of the old cars had flats, and one was missing a windshield. Despite that fact, I could see lights on in several of the units and a sign blinked repeatedly in one of the windows near the street identifying it as the office.
"We might as well go in and see which unit is his. Not like he's going to be hiding Jasmine under his bed, but I am curious about that phone call."
"Still worth the drive. I want to show that asshole my scar." Maggie muttered.
We walked into the dilapidated office and rang the bell sitting on the counter. There was a television blaring in the living quarters which was separated only b
y a ragged blanket that sufficed for a curtain. Someone turned the noise down, and soon a bent, scraggly looking man with a cigarette hanging from his mouth pushed through the opening and greeted us.
"Just two rooms left, busy night. You're lucky you came when you did." He paused and shifted his gaze slowly up and down Maggie's five ten frame. "You might be wanting the honeymoon suite, it's extra special nice."
Maggie stepped in front of me, leaned against the counter and gave the old pervert an eyeful, then did a reasonably good Daisy Duke impression.
"We don't want us a room, we're here to see my brother. He got hisself in a spot of trouble, and I got to talk to him. Cletus Johnson? My Daddy is pissed and he sent me down here to give Cletus a proper tongue lashing for getting his dumb ass into so much trouble."
The term "tongue lashing" must have roused the old codger's imagination. He continued to stare at my Maggie's chest, dropped his cigarette into the ashtray, and grinned a fractured smile.
"Well aren't you a good sister. Most families don't give a squat for one another anymore. Me and Cletus, we're like this." He raised a pair of brown fingers. "Did you want to wait in his room? He always comes walking in here about seven thirty, says he goes to a meeting at the church every night. Whatever his trouble was, he seems to have things figured out now. Who would have thought he would have such a pretty young sister?"
"Aw, thanks. You're an old sweetie. We been driving half the day, and it would be nice to park my big behind somewhere soft." I was getting nauseous.
"You just follow me, and I'll open his place for you. Ain't much, but it's affordable." He bent over behind the counter and came up with a set of keys. "Sure as the dickens your behind ain't that big, but the room comes with two nice soft chairs." He led us to the back of the parking lot and turned the key in one of the darkened rooms, all while trying to keep one eye on Maggie. "You tell Cletus I was nice to you, alrighty Darlin'?"
"You are the sweetest, and thank you again." Maggie touched his shoulder and smiled. The old man chuckled, took one more look, then shuffled off to his television and forgotten cigarettes.
I raised a brow. "I can wait in the truck, if you and the old guy want to be alone."
"I got us in, didn't I?"
"The sign in the road says safe and secure rooms, but not so much if you have the goods."
"The goods?" She snickered. "Leave my girls out of it. Let's look around quick and then wait in the truck. I would not want him to catch us in his room."
"No doubt. It's not going to take us long, no place to hide anything in here."
A couple of worn chairs faced a small television and there was a small dresser and a single bed. The idea of the three hundred pound Cletus sleeping on a single bed boggled my mind, but it was probably more comfortable than a cot in the county jail. There was a tiny refrigerator with a built-in sink and two burners for cooking on the side. Very efficient, and sparse. Maggie checked the kitchen and I looked under the bed and pulled the drawers of the tiny dresser open. There was a small table and lamp beside the bed and a Gideon Bible in the drawer. I flipped it open and found a few pages of notes.
"Nothing here except some notes about staying clean." I thought about it for a moment, then shared my other discovery. "There is a letter to Jasmine, but I don't think I should read it."
Maggie pulled it out of my hand. "Kind of why we're here Slater. If he's still obsessed with her, we have to know that." She sat on the bed and scanned the letter, then looked up at me sadly. "He says that he does still love her, but that he understands they can never be together. It goes on and on about how much he cares about her, and how he just wants to make amends because it's part of his recovery. At the end he says he hopes he can see her again someday, just to show her that he can be a normal person. Slightly obsessed maybe, but now I feel bad for him."
"You'll be feeling bad for us if he catches us in here. Let's get out of here and wait for him in the truck."
"I was afraid this was a waste of time."
"We have to eliminate suspects, so it still was worth the trip. You never know, it's not like he'd leave a ransom note just laying around. Considering how he's living, orchestrating a kidnapping does seem highly unlikely. I still want to talk to him. Funny, the Bagboy knew he called Jasmine, but nobody else."
We sat in my pickup for another forty-five minutes until Cletus Johnson walked in from the street. It looked like he had lost a few pounds and he had replaced the bib overalls with regular jeans and a sweatshirt that looked three sizes too small.
"Let me see about the reception." I said to Maggie, then opened my door.
Maggie snorted, and flung her door open as well. Surprised, Cletus took a step back, then rushed forward. Expecting the worst, I spread my feet and waited.
"Eric Slater! Am I glad to see you." Cletus reached out, grabbed my hand, and started pumping it enthusiastically, grinning like I was an old friend just back from the war. He sobered instantly when Maggie walked around the truck. "I'm glad to see you too, Maggie. I am so horribly sorry for what happened to you when I shot at your airplane that day. I just thank Jesus that you weren't hurt any worse. I was out of my mind from the drugs, and losing Jasmine. But there is no excuse. Can you ever forgive me?"
"I'm good as new, just a scratch, really."
"I am supposed to make amends, but I can never make that up to you. All I can do is say I'm sorry, really, really sorry."
"Maggie spent some time in the hospital and was laid up for a couple weeks, so it was more than a scratch." He didn't have to look at the scar, but she didn't have to let him off the hook completely!
"Oh God, I am sorry. I will do anything you want to try to make that up to you. As soon as I get back to North Dakota and go back to work for Brandon I'll start sending you money, to pay you back for the doctor bills."
"It's alright Cletus." Maggie rested a hand on his arm. "You can pay me back by helping us and being honest with us about what's going on with you and Jasmine."
"We know you called her, which is a violation of the restraining order." I added.
"I didn't harass her, honest. I just wanted some closure, you know?"
"So you haven't had any contact since, no phone calls or messages that someone might have delivered for you?"
"I know it's hard to understand, with me being twice her age, but I really cared about that girl. I had to apologize to her too, as part of the program." He looked back and forth between us. "Don't you guys live in Jacksonville? Did you come all the way up here just to get me in trouble for calling her? I'm not going to call her again, honest. I thought about sending her a letter, to kind of explain some things I forgot to say, if that's alright. As soon as I can I'm going home to Fargo, and then I'll probably never see her again."
"We're not here to get you in trouble, Cletus. I have to tell you something and I don't want you to over react, but you might know something that will help us."
"Is Jasmine okay? Is something wrong with Jaz?" There was desperation in his voice, real concern, and I didn't think he was that good an actor.
"Jasmine's disappeared, Cletus. She may have been kidnapped." Maggie spoke up. "We thought there was an outside chance you had something to do with it."
"We're just covering all the bases." I assured him. "We thought you might be holding a grudge. Nothing personal."
He started pacing frantically and ringing his hands. "Shit. Oh shit."
"What is it Cletus? You can't flip out on us. I only told you on the off-chance Jasmine might have said something when you talked to her on the phone. It seemed like she was worked up lately, and I thought she might have said something to you."
"That's just it." Cletus leaned against my truck and put his head down. "When I was in first in County, I met a guy named Diego Salazar. Smooth talker and a funny guy. I kind of wanted to impress him, being new to jail and everything. I told him all about how crazy I was about Jasmine, and about how her grandmother was Maryanne Thatcher and how she owns half of No
rth Dakota."
"You think he'd be capable of a kidnapping?"
"You thought I might be, right?" He asked shrewdly. "He got out a few days before I did, and he showed up to help me find a place to live. I thought he was just being a nice guy because he knew how I felt about Jasmine, but he suggested I call her, and I used his phone without thinking. I was afraid she might not pick up if she knew it was me. Bottom line, he has her number on his phone now. He was in jail for writing bad checks, but he's been in the can more than once. The way he talked I don't think he's ever done an honest days work in his life, it's always about scamming someone out of money."
"Big jump to kidnapping."
"But big money when Maryanne Thatcher is involved. I'll kill him if he hurts Jaz."
"You need to keep doing what you're doing Cletus." Maggie said. "We didn't tell you this so you would jump probation and do something crazy. Let us handle this Salazar guy. Any idea where we might find him?"
"He said he was headed back to Daytona. He hangs around down on the beach at the White Sands. That's a bar and strip club where a lot of bikers go. He said he goes there to pick up girls, thinks he's a real player. I've been there before." He glanced at Maggie. "Lots of drugs and girls for sale."
"We'll keep you posted okay?" I put out my hand.
"You're not really a lawyer, are you Mr. Slater?"
"Not that smart Cletus. Promise me, no funny business. We'll call you when we know something."
"I promise. Here's my phone number, you let me know what's going on. I maybe can't be with her, but I really love that little girl."
As we started driving out of the lot, the manager opened his door and started talking to Cletus. Probably a good thing we were leaving Atlanta.
Chapter Sixteen
We didn't get back to Jacksonville until three in the morning and the lights were still on in the Jeffries house. Angela sat at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book. There was an uncased handgun sitting on the table.
