Biker Blues

by Dale Mayer

  “Yes, everything comes back to that.”

  “Did you find out anything about him? His life? Problems?” He hated to think Billy’s life had been so shitty it ended up with him getting murdered, but someone had killed him, and blowing his face off was too damn personal to be accidental.

  “We’re working on it.”

  Morgan hesitated. “I’m going to check around a bit. Figure out what he was up to the last few days of his life. I know I haven’t had much to do with him the last year, but I knew him well before that.”

  “That’s fine, but remember someone killed him, and that someone is going to want to keep it all a secret.”

  “Good, then he’s going to be forced to show his hand.”

  There was an odd silence. “I understand wanting revenge on your brother’s death and needing to find your stalker, but consider how Jazz is going to react if anything happens to you. Particularly if you are killed in this process. What’s to stop this guy from going after her then – when there’s no one watching out for her?”

  Morgan put his phone away, his anger abating slightly at the cop’s words. He was right, but that didn’t change the fact that this needed to end. He had no intention of getting killed but doubted his brother had planned for that either.

  And it had still happened to him.

  Jazz returned to sit at the computer. Not working. Just staring at the website. Her website. Her business. Her life. Another violation. Another personal attack.

  His heart ached for all she’d been through. Guilt ate at him. He’d brought this to her door. If he hadn’t contacted her, could she have remained removed from this mess?

  Still the core connection was tattoos. Maybe it had nothing to do with his brother at all. Maybe it was Jazz instead.

  Maybe it was his brother’s and Jazz’s connection? The non-existent relationship?

  Damn it. There were always more questions. So far, damn little in the way of answers.

  Chapter 14

  She’d already contacted her webmaster and asked who’d sent the image to be uploaded.

  There was no answer yet. She paid him monthly for the maintenance of the site. As the real work was done through the shop, her website was more of a picture catalog for people to see other artwork to get ideas for their own tattoos.

  It wasn’t an online store.

  And shouldn’t have been worth hacking.

  Her webmaster emailed her. “You did. A few days ago.” Below was the request from her email at the shop with the image attached.

  “Morgan,” she said in a faint voice, pointing to the screen. “Someone hacked into my email and asked the webmaster to upload the image.”

  “Ah hell, honey.” He wrapped his arms around her as he read both the webmaster’s email and the original request. “I imagine that was pretty damn easy to do, too.”

  She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “How?”

  “Because your email is just Jazz@allthatsjazz. It’s not hard to figure out. And the webmaster’s name and contact information is on your website. It’s a quick 1 plus 1 to put it together.”

  The webmaster would have had no way to know the request hadn’t come from her either. Sometimes these came from Roxy or Perl, depending on who had the time at the moment.

  She slumped back into her chair.

  “It’s a scary thing to think we’re so vulnerable to something like this.”

  “Most would consider this a harmless prank, unless you’re looking at it from a darker perspective as we are this case.”

  She nodded. “It’s still upsetting.”

  “Of course,” he said. “This person is playing with you. With us. With the cops. But none of this says dangerous stalker, shooter, or murderer.”

  “True, but it’s definitely well past the point of a joke,” she muttered.

  “He’s taunting you.”

  “Yeah, I got that.” She studied the email from the webmaster… and gasped.

  Morgan turned and said sharply, “What?”

  “Look at the date. It’s the same day we went to the morgue.”

  He leaned over her shoulder. “Shit. So they either saw me at the shop or watched us coming or leaving from the morgue.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “This all brings it back to the same day.” He motioned to the email. “Forward that to Shaun as well. The more evidence he has, the better.”

  She clicked through the several buttons she had to in order to send it off, adding a note that the request was on the same day that Morgan had walked back into her life and the same day they’d gone to view the tattoo.

  She turned and got up off the bed. “I can’t say I’m feeling very good about any of this right now. My shop seems to be firmly in the center of the mess.”

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “I may be the one responsible for bringing you in. Consider if I hadn’t walked into your shop that day?”

  “Meaning this wouldn’t have all happened.” How did that make her feel? She’d needed him back into her life. Was blessed and so damn grateful he was here… and yet look at what had come with him. She snorted. No, it was once again Billy messing up their lives. He’d died and that brought his brother back into the scene. It was obvious that having Morgan back here was going to bring her back into his world. One way or another. She was grateful it was all good as he could have come back with a wife and the scenario would have been so much different.

  She hated to bring it up, but she had to wonder yet again if it really was Billy lying in the morgue. How did that change anything if it wasn’t him?

  It wouldn’t involve Morgan for one. He’d only come to help identify his brother.

  But…

  She turned back to him. “How did you know that it was your brother in the morgue?”

  “I told you – it feels like him.” He frowned at her.

  “No,” she said, walking closer. Knowing this was important and she’d missed some vital piece of information, she asked, “Where was this body found?”

  “In his apartment. His name was on the lease. They found me as his next of kin.”

  “Of course they did.” She threw up her hands. “This shit is making me crazy.”

  “Have you…” and his voice petered off.

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “Have I ever what?”

  He took a deep breath, “Been to his place?”

  “No. Never.” She frowned. “But maybe that’s where we should have started looking.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s late, but not that late. Do you think we can get in?”

  “It’s whether we’re allowed in. He was murdered there, so it’s a crime scene.”

  “Maybe, but I think we should go. See if anything strikes us as being important.”

  “I’ll call and see if we can get clearance.”

  *

  Why the hell hadn’t he considered Billy’s apartment before? The cops had gone through it earlier and he thought they were done with it, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d been too busy trying to mend his relationship with Jazz and keeping her safe. That had been a full-time job in itself.

  The cop answered immediately. When he was done, he turned to Jazz and said, “I do like how the cops are very responsive.”

  “Meaning?” she asked, her voice low, dull.

  “Meaning that they are willing to help us help them.”

  She brightened. “So does that mean we can go in?”

  “It’s no longer a crime scene and as the next of kin, I have to clear things out.”

  “But we don’t know for sure it’s him on the slab… right?”

  He said, “Not yet. But I paid for a private lab to do the tests fast. We should know in a few days.”

  He kept his face down, feeling her surprise, knowing she was searching his features for answers. In a quiet voice, he looked over at her and said, “Billy was still my brother.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry.” And she was. Billy had been a shit, but he’d been Mor
gan’s shit. “Do you not want to go to his apartment then?”

  “We’ll go now. The sooner the better.”

  He got up and walked downstairs and outside with her. They’d be able to get to his brother’s place in five minutes. He lived below Knox Mountain, an older part of town.

  It actually took closer to eight minutes, but he pulled into the small driveway of the older home and turned off the engine.

  “I thought you said he had an apartment.”

  “This is split into two. Billy rented the lower level.” He stood and stared at the place. There were no lights on up or down. He walked to the lower entrance door and checked the door. It was locked. It shouldn’t have been as the police wouldn’t normally lock up as they left afterwards – at least he presumed so. He studied the lock and realized it was new. As in within the last few days.

  So the landlord. Crap.

  The door beside him opened.

  “What are you doing here?” the older man asked suspiciously.

  “I’m Billy’s brother,” Morgan said quietly. “I wanted to check and see if there was anything to explain his death.”

  The landlord’s face cleared. “Good. You’ll need to clear out his belongings, too. With the mess the cops have made in there, I’m not giving back the damage deposit either. Just a minute and I’ll get the keys.”

  Morgan drew Jazz closer and waited for the landlord to return. The night air was cool, but his blood was having no trouble keeping him warm. This is not where he wanted to be right now.

  With a warm willing woman in his arms and heart, this was in truth the last place he wanted to be.

  But until this mess was solved, his… their… choices were limited.

  Chapter 15

  “The damage deposit was his biggest concern,” she whispered to Morgan in outrage. “Is that the thought people have after we’ve gone?” Sadness struck her at the idea. And frustration at the way the world functioned. It wasn’t the landlord’s fault, but it was a reality check.

  “No,” Morgan said, a thread of anger in his voice. “He also wants to make sure he’s not stuck having to clean the mess out.”

  “Damn, it’s a tough world.” She looked at the rougher neighborhood. “Maybe we’re misjudging him in that he needs the rent to survive, and having to clean out and clean up a suite will set him back a month’s rent.”

  “Most likely.” But his tone was brusque.

  She slid her hand into his and squeezed gently.

  When he squeezed back, she realized how her actions had been the right thing to do. She couldn’t forget that regardless of what else was going on, this was a personal loss.

  The landlord came out wheezing and puffing, an ash-tipped cigarette shaking at the corner of his mouth with every word. “Here it is.”

  He unlocked the door to the basement suite and let them inside. “Figure out how long you need to clean this mess out so I can set a new move-in date for renters.”

  “Will do,” Morgan said quietly.

  She could understand but wished the man had a little more heart. A man had died. And that man had family.

  As if realizing how he’d sounded, the landlord added, “Condolences on the loss of your bother.” Then he scampered back outside.

  Jazz stood just inside the door and stared around her at the small apartment. This was where Billy had lived? Funny how she’d never considered what his lifestyle was like. He’d always been sleazy to her – his home was no different. Evidence of the police presence was everywhere, with cushions lifted and tossed onto the broken down loveseat and dusting powder on the wall. Dirty dishes littered the counter, and a box of kid’s cereal sat open on the counter. The coffee pot on the side was half-full of cold coffee.

  A life interrupted.

  She focused on the personal details, wondering who else had been here. Who else might have stayed here with him? Outside of a few cheap paintings on the wall, she couldn’t see anything. It was a bachelor apartment. The bedroom was on the left. She headed toward it, leaving Morgan to his painful memories as he stood off to the one side and stared at the remnants of his brother’s life.

  In the bedroom there was a double bed, bedding tossed to the side and clothes dropped to the floor. She headed for the dresser first. Feeling like a voyeur, she opened the top drawer and after finding it full of underwear and socks, she quickly moved to the next and the next. All clothing. No hidden stash of money or motive. She was looking for a big sign to say, “Hey Morgan. This is why I was an asshole and got myself murdered.”

  Of course that was never going to happen, but hey, she could hope. Moving to the night table, she found a box of condoms that gave her an icky feeling even while she was mentally patting the dead man on his non-existent shoulder for caring enough to not procreate. There were a few other things tossed into the drawer, but nothing that made any sense to her. But they might to Morgan.

  She bent to look under the bed and saw more dust bunnies than she cared to. The bed would have to be checked as well, but as she didn’t have gloves, she was going to wait for Morgan.

  The closet was next. She opened the double doors, unsurprised to see snowboarding gear jammed inside instead of clothing. There were a few hoodies and several jackets. What she couldn’t see was anything female. Of course she hadn’t made it to the bathroom yet.

  Morgan appeared in the doorway, “Do you see anything?”

  “Not really. There are a few things you should take a look at in the night table, but they don’t mean anything to me. Also…” she hesitated and turned to face him, “I think we should probably toss the bed.”

  His jaw firmed but he nodded.

  “Let’s do it.” He went to the end of the bed and lifted the top mattress up into the air. She looked underneath, but there was nothing there. “It’s clear.”

  He lowered the mattress, then squatted and lifted both the mattress and box spring in the air.

  She gave a startled squeak, but raced to the front and grabbed the envelope tucked up against the frame on the underside. “I’ve got something.”

  He waited until she was clear before replacing both. He held out his hand for the envelope. She gave it to him and waited. He opened it up and pulled out the letter inside. Something fluttered to the floor.

  *

  Morgan opened the letter. A muscle worked in his jaw as he started to read. He collapsed on the end of the bed and muttered, “Shit.”

  Then read out loud.

  Dear brother. Not sure if you are going to be reading this or if it’s going to hit the garbage like so many others have done over the years. I’m an asshole. In my days when I’d like to be a better person, I write to you. Then I realize I’m never going to change and throw them out. Once again I’m full of remorse. I know it too will pass.

  I was a shit to you about Jazz. I just couldn’t leave it alone. You had what I wanted. What I deserved, and what I’d been working on long and hard. Then one day you come breezing into town to visit me, take one look at her, and that’s it – bam – she falls at your feet. It’s not like I wasn’t getting pieces on the side while I was working on her, but it just pissed me off, you know?

  Everything in your life has been easy. Mine – shit.

  Still, I shouldn’t have done my damnedest to break you two up. She was never going to be mine. But that didn’t mean I was happy to have her be yours.

  Like I said, I’m a shit.

  But this time I might have crossed the line. Because someone I was screwing literally at the time I was screwing up your life didn’t like my methods. Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that they were pissed at me, but more they were pissed at her. Because really… given a fair shot, I’d have dropped every bitch in my vicinity to grab Jazz, and everyone around me knew it. There were also many people panting after you. Both sexes by the way.

  Do you tango in both directions? I just can’t see my brother doing that. But who knows?

  I know I’m going to toss this letter any
way, so I can say whatever the hell I want to. Who knew what a wordsmith I’d become? I don’t know if I should tell you the truth or not. I figured I would, but not until I was ready to pull out of town. So this letter is kind of a prelude. If I find the guts to say this to your face, awesome… maybe fun even. But you’re likely to beat the shit out of me, and I’m really not into you ruining my pretty face.

  So this letter will have to suffice. I’m thinking this weekend is going to be my ticket out of here. I found a stash of cash – of course the owner doesn’t know about it. But whatever, I need it to get the hell out of town. So the end of the month is it.

  I might see you before I go, but if not and this ends up in your mailbox, you’ll know that I haven’t changed. But I’m young and there are years ahead of me to grow and improve.

  Snicker. As if. Life is way too much fun for me to ruin it with all that honor and moral code. Like seriously? You’ve been drilling that down my throat since forever – it didn’t take back then, and it sure as hell isn’t going to take now.

  Besides, only the good die young. And I’m going to live to a ripe old age and screw as many people as I can in the process.

  After all, who’s going to stop me?

  Not you.

  See you later, brother.

  Billy.

  Chapter 16

  Jazz sat down beside Morgan, her mind consumed with the vicious disregard for another person’s feelings. “He’s really an asshole, isn’t he?”

  Morgan jerked.

  “I’m sorry, but given this letter, it’s a little hard to have much sympathy. I’m sorry for you.” She snorted. “Hell, I’m sorry for me.”

  It was also the proof that Morgan had been telling her the truth all along. She hadn’t needed it, but it was nice to have. But she hurt for Morgan. To have your own brother betray you was one thing, but to have him mock you at the same time… well, she hadn’t hated Billy before, but with the ravaged look on Morgan’s face, she sure as hell did now. She hoped he rotted in hell to boot. She lifted a shaky hand to her face.