Detective Jack Stratton Box Set

by Christopher Greyson

  Kelly hesitated.

  “Is there something else?”

  Kelly twisted back and forth. “My ex is here too. He’s friends with my brother.”

  This just keeps getting better.

  Jack hid his apprehension, leaned closer, and whispered, “You’re the only one I care about seeing.” A crooked grin crossed his face. “It’ll be fun.”

  The three of them walked up the driveway and around the side of the house. Jack held open the gate to the backyard and let Kelly and Courtney through. Kelly took his hand.

  The backyard was huge—and beautiful. It appeared as if a ground crew had spent days working on it. The grass was green, lush, and meticulously edged, bushes were shaped and trimmed, and the flowers were in full bloom, carefully arranged in beds of fresh wood chips. Behind that, an in-ground pool, twice the size of a standard one, glistened aquamarine blue. Well-dressed people milled about.

  Courtney hurried over to a group of five girls who eyed Jack like a panel of judges at a talent show. They pointed and talked and pointed again until they collectively nodded their approval and surrounded Courtney, eager for more details about Kelly’s new boyfriend.

  Mrs. Dawson noticed them from where she stood chatting with several women in a gazebo flanked by twin Japanese maples. She nodded at guests sitting at rows of tables set up under a large white tent, then strolled over to them. She smiled warmly, but there was a tightness around her eyes.

  “Jack. I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “Thank you very much for inviting me. It’s a beautiful day for a barbecue.”

  “It is. Have you been enjoying it?”

  “No, I just got here. I was…” Jack cleared his throat. “I was sort of trapped inside all morning.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said. “It’s such a beautiful day, you feel like a prisoner being inside on a day like this.”

  “You can say that again. Is your husband here?” Jack asked. “I’d like to thank him for the invitation.”

  Mrs. Dawson considered for a moment. Jack had the distinct impression she was deciding whether she should try to talk him out of that course of action.

  Jack waited confidently.

  Mrs. Dawson waved her hand toward the house. “He’s up there.” The tight smile on her lips conveyed to Jack that this was a meeting she really didn’t want to happen.

  Mr. Dawson stood on the top step of a slate-covered patio like a king in command of his court. He had a cocktail in one hand and gestured expressively with the other at eight men on the steps below him. When he joked, they all laughed at once. He paused, and they nodded with introspection. And when he started to speak again, they smiled and looked on with rapt attention. It was a puppet court, and Mr. Dawson was the one pulling the strings.

  Jack’s back tightened as he strode across the grass. As he approached, the conversation on the steps abruptly stopped. Clearly there was some invisible barrier between these men and everyone else—and Jack had just shattered it. Silence descended on the group. Even a golden retriever that had been running around the yard stopped and watched.

  Jack marched up the steps to Mr. Dawson, smiled, and held out his hand. “Thank you for the invitation, sir.”

  Mr. Dawson swirled the ice cubes in his glass thoughtfully, and his court jesters stood ready to receive a cue that they understood. Jack hadn’t waited for the king to call, a clear breach of etiquette that had caught the king off-guard. He forced a smile across his face and gripped Jack’s hand. “Glad you could make it.” He turned toward the other men. “This is an acquaintance of my daughter’s. Jack…?”

  “Stratton. Jack Stratton.” Jack briefly met the men’s vacant stares. “Thanks again.” He nodded at Mr. Dawson, and then, while still in charge, turned to go. Mr. Dawson’s lips twitched.

  Jack wondered how much the loss of control bothered him. Mr. Dawson was used to running companies and manipulating people. He called, they came—and they stayed until he said that they were allowed to go. That was how everyone in his world operated.

  But not Jack.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed the side glances of the other men and kept a controlled pace across the yard. The brief greeting had gone just how Jack had wanted. In, “thank you,” and out. Nice, quick, and polite.

  He felt like a pirate king as he strode under the white marquee where Kelly was waiting for him. Courtney whispered something to her, and Kelly’s eyes widened. Then they both broke into a giggle.

  “I’d sure like to know what you just said,” Jack said to Courtney.

  “I was just thinking aloud.” Courtney crossed her arms. “You must have—”

  “Courtney!” Kelly gasped.

  “I was kidding!” Courtney grinned impishly.

  Kelly took Jack’s hand. “Let’s get a drink.”

  Jack headed over to a table covered with assorted bottles and drinks and poured himself a glass of iced tea.

  “That was impressive,” Kelly said, fixing herself a drink. “My father’s about as approachable as a porcupine. Thank you for doing it.” She swirled the soda in her glass and looked up at him through curled lashes. “Do you have plans for Friday night?”

  “What’s the matter with tonight?”

  She lit up, then huffed. “I have to go out with my mom.”

  “Then Friday night it is.” Jack lowered his voice and his glass. “Now that we have the uncomfortable part behind us, how about we head over to…” Jack trailed off when Kelly’s startled gaze shifted to something behind him.

  Jack turned to face three guys walking up. Tall, blond, fit, well-groomed clones.

  “Preston,” said the one in the red polo shirt. He stuck out his hand. “So you’re my baby sister’s new boyfriend?” He squeezed Jack’s hand, hard, and tilted his head toward his companions. “These are my friends Warner and Archer.”

  Jack had to fight off a smirk when he looked at the distressed jeans Warner and Archer wore—identical in their factory-made imperfections. It says a lot about a guy if he has to pay to have someone break in his pants for him.

  Jack stepped forward. “Nice to meet you.”

  Warner’s eyes shifted between Jack and Kelly and settled on Kelly, his thin lips pressed into a slight sneer as he ogled her. She made just the slightest movement closer to Jack, and Warner tipped his head back and his small blue eyes stared down his angular nose at Jack. “Jack, huh?” He tried to crush Jack’s hand as he shook it.

  “That’s me.” Jack tightened his grip. He’d taken an immediate dislike to the guy.

  Warner winced and let go.

  Archer just nodded casually at Jack and appeared uninterested in the entire interaction.

  Preston set his drink down on a table and eyed Jack. “We’re having a little touch football game in a minute, in the field across the street. We’re one guy short. Care to help us out?”

  “We were just about to take off,” Kelly said.

  “No, you’re not,” Preston said. “You’re going out with Mom after.”

  “It’s only light contact,” Warner said pointedly to Jack. “If you’re worried, we can go easy.”

  Jack looked at Kelly. “Do you mind?”

  Kelly gave him a you-don’t-know-what-you’re-getting-yourself-into look and shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  “I’m up for a game,” Jack said.

  Warner stepped on Archer’s foot.

  “You can be on my side, Jack,” Archer offered quickly.

  As the boys and Kelly walked down the driveway, five of Kelly’s girlfriends followed behind. Jack could only catch bits and pieces of their conversation, but it all focused on one thing: him. There seemed to be a universal consensus that he was making a big mistake by playing in the game.

  When they reached the large grassy field across the street from her house, Jack handed Kelly his wallet and keys. “So, which one’s your old boyfriend?”

  Kelly looked a little embarrassed. “Warner.”

  Jack w
inked and then turned back to the field. In addition to the three guys he’d met, a few other boys had gathered—not all of them tall and blond, Jack noted, but all carrying themselves with the same air of well-bred, ingrained superiority. Archer waved him over. As Jack jogged across the grass, Preston and Warner exchanged a sideways wink and nod.

  “As you can see, it’s four on four. Light contact,” Archer reminded them after they had broken into teams. “I’m usually quarterback, but if you want to…?” He held a hand out to Jack.

  Jack shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  They lined up, and for the next hour, Jack was tackled, bashed, elbowed, and repeatedly stepped on. Jack’s teammates kept setting him up to take a beating, stopping or even stepping aside when they should have blocked for him, leaving him an easy target. And Warner hit the hardest. They tried to make their cheap shots look accidental, and of course they went out of their way to be polite in front of the genteel onlookers, making a big show of helping Jack off the ground each time they knocked him down.

  But Jack gave as good as he got. Preston elbowed him in the face, and on the next play Jack “accidentally” kneed him in the thigh. Warner stomped on Jack’s ankle, and as Jack stumbled, he just happened to hit Warner hard in the solar plexus.

  Jack was just getting up from a hard tackle by Preston when Warner slammed into Jack from behind and Jack crashed to the dirt. Preston immediately offered him a hand up and a smug smile.

  Jack’s hands balled into fists.

  A shrill whistle cut through the air. Kelly ran forward, a bright-pink whistle between her teeth and a big glass of lemonade in her hand. “Refreshment time-out!” She brought the glass to Jack.

  “We’re in the middle of a game,” Preston whined.

  “You can take a break,” she called over her shoulder, heading back toward the house and hoping Jack would follow her. He took the hint, ignoring the disgruntled preppies.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for the drink. And the time-out.”

  Kelly held up the whistle. “Cheerleading.” She flicked some dirt off Jack’s shoulder. “Sorry. Those guys are jerks. You can stop.”

  Courtney ran up with her phone in her hand. “Move together.”

  “Will you stop taking pictures?” Kelly said.

  Courtney pouted. “I have nothing on my Facebook wall. You got all dressed up and you two are adorable.”

  Kelly slid close to Jack.

  Three photos later, Courtney winked and stuck her phone in her back pocket with the fluid motion of a samurai sheathing his sword.

  “Come on, Kelly!” Preston yelled. “We wanna play.”

  Jack finished the lemonade in one gulp. “Thank you.” As he handed Kelly the glass, he stared at Courtney. “Where are you posting that?”

  “Facebook. I put everything on my page.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jack muttered. “That’s it.”

  “What’s it?” Kelly asked, confused.

  “Come on, Stratton!” Warner called. “Or are you wimping out?”

  Jack ignored him and spoke to Kelly. “I just thought of something. I have to go.”

  “Now?”

  Jack looked back to Preston. He hated to leave in the middle of a fight. “I’ve gotta take off,” he yelled.

  The guys on the field jeered; Warner the loudest.

  Kelly took Jack’s hand as he headed for the Impala. “Is everything all right?” Her blue eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed.

  “I’m good. A friend of mine needs help. You’re cool with that?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry about those jerks.”

  “I don’t care what they think. This has nothing to do with them.”

  Kelly handed Jack his wallet and keys.

  He tossed the keys up in the air, then caught them again with a loud jingle. “Are we on for Friday night?”

  “Yes.” She kissed him. It was a quick kiss, but long enough for her fingertips to brush down his forearm as lightly as a snowflake.

  “Wow.”

  She smiled.

  As Jack climbed into the driver’s seat, he had to grind his teeth together to keep from groaning in pain in front of Kelly.

  Seven guys came jogging over together in a pack. “Hey, Jack!” Preston called out. “Now that you know how we play, next game we can go a little harder.”

  “Sure. Anytime.” Jack waved him off.

  Archer grinned slyly. “We play most Saturdays. Tell you what, why don’t you get a team together? Bring some friends.”

  Jack tried not to make a face. “Sounds like a blast.”

  “If it’s too rough for you,” Warner said, strutting forward, “I’ll let you ref. I’m sure Kelly will let you borrow her cheerleader whistle.” He laughed, and the others joined him.

  Jack was about to get back out of the car—he was already reaching for the door handle—but Kelly leaned in the window, pulled him close, and kissed him. This was a much longer kiss. Her hand slid to the base of Jack’s head, and he slowly moved his own hand so it caressed her neck and ear.

  When she pulled away, Jack just gazed at her, only barely aware that Archer and Preston were struggling to hold Warner back.

  “Guess that’ll have to hold me awhile,” Jack finally said with a smile.

  Kelly’s breathing was ragged. “Call me?”

  “I will.” Jack started up the car. He knew all eyes were on them. He tipped an imaginary hat to the boys, who could only glare as he backed out and drove away.

  Twenty minutes later, Jack was in Washington Heights. He parked in front of Aunt Haddie’s, pulled a gym bag from his trunk, and headed around to the back door. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs when he heard the old pickup truck pulling up in the driveway.

  Chandler jumped out of the cab, grease and oil on his clothes, hands, and face. He looked like a mechanic who’d operated on a car that didn’t survive the procedure. Chandler waved back at the driver. “See ya, Mr. Emerson.”

  Mr. Emerson, an old man with white hair and even whiter teeth, flashed an enormous grin. “Couldn’t have done it without you, son. Thanks!”

  As Mr. Emerson drove off, Chandler turned to Jack, wiping grease off his hands on an old rag. “Don’t tell me you’re here to work out, because I just spent three hours breaking my back.”

  “I thought you were just delivering a refrigerator.”

  “I was.” Chandler held up four oil-smeared fingers. “Fourth floor. I had to lug the thing up strapped to a dolly. Then the used refrigerator Mr. Emerson got wouldn’t fit. So I had to swap out the motor and install it, then take the one we brought up back down all those stairs.” He again stuck up four fingers for emphasis.

  “That’s better than what I had to do. I drove Aunt Haddie and Mrs. Martin to Long Bay.”

  Chandler laughed. “Was there a riot? You look like you got jumped.”

  Jack looked down at his dirty, grass-stained clothes. “Oh, this is from Kelly’s barbecue.”

  Chandler puffed a derisive snort. “That sure is some kind of barbecue those rich folks throw.”

  “Knock it off. There was also a pickup football game,” Jack said. “And no one told me that I was the ball.”

  Chandler laughed again. “Class warfare up on Knob Hill. Oh, yes, I can see it.”

  “You want to give me a hand finding Two Point?” Jack asked.

  “Not really. Why do you want to find him?”

  “I promised Mrs. Martin. And Aunt Haddie.” Jack didn’t need to add the last part. He knew Chandler would go with him. He held up the gym bag. “You mind if I take a quick shower first?”

  “Sure. After me.” Chandler looked Jack over. “You need it. Looks like you’re gonna need a lotta showers if you wanna keep going to those barbecues.”

  “Oh, yeah? You look like you lost a fight with the Swamp Monster.”

  The back door opened and Aunt Haddie came out onto the porch. She took one look at Chandler and Jack and put her hands on her hips
.

  “They’re work clothes!” Chandler called up.

  Aunt Haddie’s shoulders bounced up and down, then she burst out laughing. Her laugh was deep, big, and bright.

  Chandler spread his hands out. “I earned these stains with honor. I lugged a refrigerator up and down—”

  “Jewels in your crown in Heaven. For now, you boys will have to settle for meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

  Chandler’s face lit up.

  “I’ll fix you both a big plate, but you’ll need to wash up first.” She disappeared into the house, still laughing.

  As they headed up the steps, Jack asked Chandler, “Can I get on your computer?”

  “Sure. It’s your old computer.”

  “I just need to look something up on Facebook. I thought of something at Kelly’s and want to check it out. Also, can you ask Makayla to call Nina and see if she’s heard from Two Point?”

  “Sure. What’s all this about, Jack?”

  “J-Dog wasn’t lying,” Jack said. “He didn’t steal Stacy Shaw’s wallet. But I think I know who did.”

  9

  The Hunt for Two

  Jack scrubbed the dirt out of his hair and tried to crack his shoulder. His lip stung, but the burning from the scrape up his side hurt worse.

  He leaned his head down and let the hot water wash over him. It felt like only a second later when he heard familiar thumping: Aunt Haddie, banging out her familiar warning to take a quick shower. He clicked the water off. Aunt Haddie didn’t have much money, and it was expensive to heat that old hot water tank.

  Jack watched the water spiral down the drain. “When I get my own place, I’m taking showers until the water runs cold.”

  After he toweled off and changed into clean pants, Jack stepped into the hallway, still pulling on his T-shirt. Michelle opened her bedroom door and rolled her eyes.

  “Normal people get dressed in the bathroom.”

  “Be quiet, Half-Pint.”

  She giggled. “Are you sleeping over?”

  “I think so. Where’s Chandler?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Jack headed downstairs. Chandler sat at the kitchen table, about to bite into an Oreo that he quickly hid beneath the table.