Welcome to Blissville

by Walker, Aimee Nicole

  “She doesn’t have any plans on Saturday. What about you?” Willa asked Harley.

  “Mother!”

  “Hush, child. If you’re not going to look out for your fairytale love, then I sure as hell will.”

  “My nephew has a birthday party at one, but I’ll be able to go out afterward. How does seven sound?” Harley asked Meredith.

  “Seven is good,” Willa responded when Meredith stood silently staring back at Harley. “Girl, have you lost your mind? Give the man your phone number so you two can work out the details. I can’t be responsible for all of it.” Willa harrumphed and turned her chair back around. I caught her eye in the mirror, and she shot me a playful wink.

  Meredith gave her number to Harley, and he entered it in his phone. I could tell she was nervous by the way she tucked her hair behind her ears. She glanced over at me, and I gave her a reassuring smile. Our pasts were so similar that it was almost comical. Meredith’s easy smiles and contagious joy made it easy to forget how badly she’d been hurt in the past. I had my happily ever after and it was past time she found hers too.

  Harley pushed a few more buttons on his phone then looked up at her with a huge smile on his face when Meredith’s phone chimed with an incoming text. “Now you have my number too. Is it okay if I call you tonight?”

  Meredith caught her mother’s eyes in the mirror and asked, “Mama, is it okay if he calls me tonight?”

  “So much sass,” Willa said, but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Do you like that in a woman, Harley?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I do,” Harley replied.

  Meredith rolled her eyes then turned to face her suitor. “You can call me tonight.”

  “Great,” Harley said, walking backward. “Is eight okay?”

  “Eight is perfect,” Meredith replied and gave him a genuine smile for the first time.

  The poor guy tripped over his own two feet and nearly fell on his ass. He blushed profusely and hastened his exit out the door. I had a good feeling about the guy and figured I might be seeing him at my dinner table on Sunday nights before too long. Now if I could just wrangle Chaz and Kyle together…

  Dorchester made a few phone calls and tracked Alice Davenport to a house in town she was cleaning. She met us on the porch when we arrived. Alice had tears streaking down her face, and she wrung her hands nervously. It was obvious word had reached her before we showed up. What’s that saying about how news travels? Something like news travels fast and bad news travels faster.

  “Is he really gone?” she asked in a grief-stricken voice.

  “I’m sorry to say that he is, Alice,” Dorchester said softly. “I know this comes as a real shock, but we need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Um, okay,” she sniffed. “Mr. Robertson didn’t tell me he was feeling bad. Do you think it was a heart attack or a stroke? Did he suffer?”

  “Alice,” Dorchester paused to search for the right words, “what I’m about to tell you will be a shock, but I’m asking that you keep it to yourself until the sheriff’s department releases the information.” Alice nodded slowly. “Mr. Robertson didn’t die of natural causes; someone killed him.” Even though he tried to warn her, she jumped back in shock and covered her mouth with her hands. “We saw that he paid you to clean his house once a week in his checkbook register. It looks like you cleaned his house two days ago, is that right?”

  Alice removed her hands so she could speak to us. “Yes, that’s right. I cleaned his house and cooked him a few meals to eat through the week like I’ve always done.”

  “Did he talk to you about any trouble he’d been having or mention that anyone was angry at him?” I asked her.

  “No,” Alice said, shaking her head.

  “Was he acting differently?” I inquired.

  “He seemed like himself, quiet and solemn. He didn’t say or do anything different than he normally did,” Alice replied after giving my question some thought. “He was such a private man, you know,” she said to Dorchester. “He had a truly kind heart. He did so many generous things that he never told people about because he didn’t want the attention.”

  “Such as?” Dorchester asked.

  “He was the one who paid to have the historic covered bridge restored,” Alice said. “He gave a lot of money to the county hospital each year privately. He helped me out a few times when I hit a financial snaggle.” Her voice broke, and she sobbed for a few minutes. “Who would want to hurt him? He never bothered anyone.”

  Dorchester reached out slowly and patted her back awkwardly. “Did he ever say anything about his nephews?”

  Alice wiped the tears from her face and sniffed a few times before she could respond. “All he said about them recently was that they thought he was crazy. He said that he’d show them crazy.” That indicated to me that he was determined to do something to prove that he was still in charge of his life and wasn’t giving in to their schemes.

  “Do you know if Mr. Robertson worked with an attorney?” I asked Alice.

  “His attorney is—was,” she corrected herself, “Rylan Broadman in Goodville. Lawrence didn’t trust any of the local attorneys. He also has a safety deposit box at Blissville Bank and Trust that you should know about.” Alice seemed to know quite a bit about Lawrence Robertson, so perhaps he wasn’t as lonely as people thought. She obviously cared about him and respected the kind of person he was.

  “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Alice. Thank you for making time to answer our questions,” I said appreciatively. “Will you please give one of us a call if you think of anything else?” She accepted our cards silently and nodded her head as the tears continued to fall from her face. “Do you want us to call someone for you?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, sounding the exact opposite. “Tell your mama I said hello, John.”

  “Will do, Alice. You take care now,” he said warmly.

  We waited for Alice to return inside the house before we got back in my car. “Let’s talk game plan,” I told Dorchester. “There are a lot of boxes to go through and just two of us. We need to update both my captain and your sheriff…”

  “Preferably not at the same time,” Dorchester interjected wryly. Those two men in the same room was a recipe for disaster. It was extremely uncomfortable, and you had a feeling that you were one incendiary comment away from a massive explosion that would burn everyone in the room, perhaps the entire county too.

  “Agreed,” I replied. “I’m hoping they let us borrow our partners for a day or two once they realize that Robertson’s homicide connects to Turner’s. We could use extra sets of hands and eyes.”

  “Definitely.” Dorchester snorted and added, “Hopefully our partners won’t kill each other in the process.” Adrian couldn’t stand Detective Whitworth, and I was sure the feeling was mutual. Their time working together hadn’t lasted much beyond a week, Adrian said it felt like a year.

  “I think they can manage if we’re there as a buffer,” I replied, but I wasn’t so sure.

  “It’s worth a shot,” he said, pulling out his cellphone. I listened to his side of the conversation with Sheriff Tucker and could tell that he wasn’t getting any arguments out of the man. “Tucker’s on board,” he said after he hung up.

  I placed a call to Captain Reardon, but I got his voicemail. It wasn’t until I pulled into the sheriff’s department parking lot that he returned my call. He agreed to send Adrian over to help me and asked me to keep him updated every step of the way.

  Dorchester, Whitworth, and I began sorting what must have been decades’ worth of boxes. “I bet the historical society would like to have some of these articles,” Whitworth said. “I think he saved every newspaper Blissville Daily News published. Hell, some of these are older than he was.”

  “Looks that way,” Adrian said from the doorway. “Hell, I was looking forward to working with my partner again, but I’m not so sure now.”

  “Awww, I missed you too, buddy. Like a toothache,” Whitworth sa
id snidely under his breath, but loud enough for us all to hear.

  “I was hesitant because of the dozens of dusty, musty boxes, Whitworth, but yeah, you’re a pain in the ass just the same,” Adrian told him.

  Dorchester and I exchanged looks that said, “Here we go.” The awkwardness dissipated when Adrian came over and shook Dorchester’s hand and slapped me on the back.

  “Rough day, partner? You doing okay?” Adrian asked me.

  “Better than Mr. Robertson,” I replied flatly. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

  “I’m glad I can help. Where do you want me to start?”

  Dorchester grinned broadly and handed Adrian a box jammed so full it was nearly overflowing. “The top documents in this box are dated around the year the casino was first pitched. See if you can find anything about the original deal inside. We’re looking for names of the players involved or anyone who threatened him. Gabe and I will pay a visit to Robertson’s attorney tomorrow, but I’d like to have some solid details before we start asking questions.”

  There were three boxes that appeared to have the most recent clippings in them, so Whitworth, Dorchester, and I each took a box and began digging through them. I found some bank statements in my box that told me that Mr. Robertson was not a poor individual. As mistrusting as he was, the amount of money he had in deposits in two county banks was staggering; all the account balances well exceeded the limits protected by FDIC insurance.

  “Does anyone else think it’s weird that Robertson would leave millions of dollars unprotected in two banks?” I asked.

  “How many millions are we talking?” Adrian asked.

  “Three million that I can find,” I replied. “It’s hard to say what might be in Robertson’s safe deposit box.”

  “It’s not that unusual,” Whitworth replied. “Investments like mutual funds, stocks, and bonds aren’t protected by the FDIC, just bank accounts and certificates of deposits. He might’ve been old school and trusted low-interest returns more than riskier investment vessels that had an opportunity to make more money. It would be a risk either way unless he wanted to divide his money between several banks. Hell, he would’ve needed twelve different banks.” Okay, so maybe Whitworth did add value to the team.

  “We’ll copy the bank records then hand them over to his attorney for his estate,” Dorchester commented. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a paper trail that leads back to our killer.”

  “That’s how it works on television,” Adrian remarked with a snort. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked suddenly, pulling a small 3 X 5 notebook out of the box. “Guys, I think this is the kind of thing we need. They’re the notes he made after meeting with the consortium. Check this out!”

  2/5/13

  Met with ML and RS regarding casino. He offered me ten million dollars. I insisted on meeting DM in person before I’d accept an offer. I want him to look me in the eye, shake my hand, and I want guarantees. I want them from him, not his lackeys.

  2/12/13

  Met the man himself. DM is friendlier than I thought. He brought RS and that weasel ML back with him. He’s sneakier and more deadly than an old dog’s fart. DM agreed to terms. Putting it in writing for lawyers to review.

  2/20/13

  Meeting with DM, ML, and our attorneys to review and sign paperwork. Those little asshole nephews aren’t getting shit when I die.

  3/25/13

  Meeting with county commissioners set for April 1st. Hope the joke isn’t on me.

  4/1/13

  The casino was shot down in a 5-4 vote. DM said he has a way of getting around it. We’ll get enough signatures on a petition to get the issue on the ballot.

  7/5/13

  400,000 signatures were needed. We got 800,000. Casino goes on the ballot.

  11/4/13

  Casino initiative failed. Only 37 % voted to build it.

  11/5/13

  DM retracted offer for the land.

  “That’s the last entry in this notebook,” Adrian said.

  “DM is Drew McCarren, CEO of McCarren Consortium Inc.,” I told Adrian. “I don’t know who the other initials belong to though. We need to find out. Let’s see if we can find a recent notebook in these boxes. If not, we’ll check his house again for it,” I said.

  We searched through the most recent boxes and didn’t find another notebook, so Dorchester and I planned to return to Robertson’s house first thing the following morning before we met with Robertson’s attorney and head to Cincinnati to update the task force. I felt it was crucial to figure out who the other players were on Drew McCarren’s team.

  We put everything back in the boxes, tagged them in as evidence, and the four of us packed them down in the storage room in the basement of the building. Once we finished, Dorchester called the law office of Rylan Broadman and notified him of his client’s death and scheduled to meet him at ten in the morning on the following day. That would put us in Cincinnati around noon to meet with the rest of the task force and discuss the next steps in the case.

  I felt like I had done all that I could that day, but I couldn’t say I was going home with a sense of accomplishment. Instead, my heart felt heavy with the responsibility of tying the Turner and Robertson cases together. In my heart, I knew they were connected. The casino was the only common denominator that made sense. I knew that by solving their cases, I’d bring closure to Owen Smithson’s family too.

  I unlocked the rear of the salon and stepped inside the kitchenette. From inside the salon came the happy sounds of music playing through the speakers and a lot of chatter going on. It was precisely what I needed right then, so I did something I rarely did. I entered Josh’s space and just watched him work. Seeing him talking and smiling with his client as he straightened her hair lifted my spirits.

  “Big Daddy’s home!” Savage announced loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Everyone turned their heads and looked at me, but I only had eyes for one person. Josh’s smile from seeing me slid from his face because I probably wore the strain of the day on mine. Worry clouded his pretty hazel eyes, and I just couldn’t handle being the reason he lost the sparkle in his eyes. I went to him, realizing that every eye in the salon was on the two of us. I hooked my finger in his apron strings that he had to wrap around his slender frame twice before tying and tugged him to me.

  “I’m happy to see you, Sunshine.” I dropped a sweet kiss on his forehead that lingered for a few seconds. “I feel so much better now.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Josh said sassily, but the sparkle I adored so much had returned. “Now I’ll be thinking about you being upstairs while I’m trying to work.”

  “Not sorry,” I fired right back.

  “Lucky for you, it’s an early night for me,” Josh said. I knew I was dismissed when he turned back to his client.

  I waved at Chaz and dropped a quick kiss on Meredith’s cheek before I grabbed Savage’s cage and headed upstairs. Buddy met me exuberantly while Diva worked really hard to pretend like she was ignoring me. I had heard how much she loved Kyle and I felt the irrational desire to win her over until she liked me more, which was why I gave her a few extra kitty treats before I grabbed a cold beer and headed toward the bathroom.

  My skin had begun to itch from my need to get clean. I knew that the stench of death and decay clung to my clothes, skin, and hair. I shouldn’t have touched Josh until I washed the misery away, but I couldn’t resist his goodness and light. I turned the temperature hotter than I normally liked, but not as hot as Josh preferred, to scald the day off my mind, body, and soul. I sipped the cold beer while I let the hot water beat down on my tense shoulders and neck for several long minutes.

  Once the beer was gone, I set the empty bottle on the shelf and began scrubbing my body hard. I didn’t think that one pass with the washcloth was enough and kept scrubbing until my skin was red and felt like thousands of little needles poked me from head to toe. It was then that I realized the tingling sensation was from the water turning cold
. Josh’s hot water tank was a fairly big one, which meant I was in the shower longer than I had realized.

  I shut off the water and ran a towel over my body before I stepped over the edge of the tub and onto the fluffy rug there. Josh was sitting on the vanity waiting for me with a cold bottle of beer and a welcoming smile. There was only one thing that was going to make me feel better, and it wasn’t the beer. I took the bottle from his hand and set it on the vanity beside him then stepped between Josh’s parted legs and lifted him so that he wrapped them around my waist.

  “You could’ve gotten in the shower with me instead of waiting out here,” I told him.

  “I thought you might need some alone time after the day you’ve had,” Josh replied.

  “What I need is you.” I captured his mouth in a kiss that was hot enough to heat my chilled flesh.

  Josh pulled back from our kiss after long minutes. “You have me, Gabe. You’ll always have me.”

  I carried Josh to our room and placed him on the center of the bed before I stripped his clothes off. His touch and his kiss restored my peace and reminded me of everything good I had in the world. When I slid inside him, it was the purest love I had ever felt. Every kiss, every sigh, and every whispered word of love from his mouth patched the holes that the cruelty of life tore out of my soul that morning.

  I loved him with my hands, my body, and my mouth. I didn’t stop until our trembling bodies clung together as our orgasms powered through us. I rolled to my side and pulled him with me so I could hold him tight to me instead of squishing him into the mattress. I ran my fingers through his hair while he placed little kisses on my neck.

  “What do you feel like eating for dinner?” he asked.

  “Let’s just have pizza delivered,” I replied. I didn’t feel like cooking nor did I feel like turning loose of Josh long enough for him to whip up magic in the kitchen. After the day I had, the only person I wanted to see was him, and the only sounds I wanted to hear was his voice or the television. I needed to embrace the beautiful moments with Josh because I was reminded in the ugliest way that morning of how fragile life truly was.