Trailer Trash (Neely Kate Mystery Book 1)

by Denise Grover Swank

  He slid his hand off the table and picked mine up and held it on top of the table. “I’ll take a beer. Whatever’s on special.” He turned to me. “Honey?”

  I nearly startled at his term of endearment, but then I realized my name was much too uncommon to go unnoticed. “A bottle of water.”

  Destiny grabbed a strand of her hair and began to play with it. “What else, sugar? You can get a beer down the street.”

  “Do you know if Carla’s here?” he asked.

  She frowned. “She’ll be here in another half hour. But I’ll be more than happy to take care of you.”

  “That’s enough for now,” Jed said.

  She walked off, looking disappointed, and I understood how she felt. I’d dealt with plenty of older, unattractive guys while working here, so I knew how much she must appreciate having a good-looking man in her section. But she must still be fairly new because the good-looking ones were often the worst.

  I tried to pull my hand free, but Jed held on.

  “We could leave and come back, but I think it would look suspicious. It would probably be better to sit here and wait. Are you okay with that?”

  I knew he didn’t like being in this dump any more than I did. “Whatever you think is best.”

  A huge grin spread across his face. “I’m goin’ to remember this moment because I have a feeling it will be one of the only times I’ll hear those words coming from your lips.”

  I laughed because he was right, and we both knew it.

  Destiny brought our drinks, and Jed handed her a hundred-dollar bill and told her to start a tab. When she left, he picked up my water and examined it before unscrewing the cap and handing it to me.

  So he knew why I’d ordered bottled water, not that I was surprised.

  We sat there for a half hour. Jed ordered another beer, but he nursed the second, taking everything in.

  Finally, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “What are you looking for?”

  “Patterns.”

  “What kind of patterns?”

  “How the waitresses work the room. Who’s asking for drinks, how many and what kind. Who’s asking for lap dances. Who’s leaving the room—where are they going; how long are they gone; who are they with? Which of the girls get the most attention, and how do the other girls deal with it.”

  I leaned back and stared at him in surprise. “Why? We’re just here to talk to Carla.”

  “What if you talk to Carla and things go sideways? I’ll know the expected behaviors of the people in the room. Besides, I don’t know exactly what I’m dealing with here, so I want to know as much as I can.”

  That was my fault. I should have told him the rest. “The threat’s not in this room, Jed.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  I hesitated, then asked, “Will you teach me?”

  He gave me a questioning look. “Teach you what?”

  “How you take note of things like that. I’m trying to convince Rose that we’re good at snoopin’ things out, and we should become investigators.”

  “Like you did with the necklace.”

  “And lookin’ for my missing cousin.”

  “And the money stolen from Rose in that bank robbery last fall,” he said, turning more sober.

  That was how Rose had first gotten tangled up with Skeeter. “Yeah.”

  He studied my face. “You really want to be a PI? For a job?”

  “Yeah.”

  “NK, I’ll help you with anything you need.”

  “Really?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve seen you and Rose investigate things in the past, and then you today . . . you’ve done really well in spite of all the emotional crap you’ve been through. I think you’d be great at it.”

  I nearly burst with happiness, barely believing what I’d just heard. I always had to convince Rose to investigate cases. Jed was the first person to believe I could actually do it for real.

  Another half hour passed, and Jed asked Destiny about Carla again. She told him that she was running late but she was coming.

  When she left, he turned to me, his face expressionless. I’d come to realize this was his game face. He expected trouble. “I don’t see any sign of Stan. Do you know anyone else who’s working tonight? Anyone who might recognize you?”

  “No.”

  “And was this common for Carla? Did she often run late?”

  “I only worked with her for a few weeks, Jed. She was new, so she was on her best behavior.”

  “How important is it for you to talk to her?”

  “I think she might know what happened with Branson after . . . I left.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he had started showin’ an interest in her, and she was holding him at bay, especially since she knew I was in such dire straits with him. Not to mention she was letting me use her car and he found out.” But mostly I needed to know what she knew about my meeting that night. As far as I knew, only Branson and Beasley knew the identity of the man who’d wanted to buy me. Stella had known a few details—I’d told her about the waiver and my suspicions about kinky torture—but no specifics. Branson could have told her later, of course, but I suspected he’d kept quiet. It was common knowledge she couldn’t keep a secret . . . although she’d done a good job of keeping the fact that Branson was alive and well from me—and not dead and buried by an oil well.

  Branson had brought me to the house that awful night, and Beasley was the one who’d set up the logistics. They were the only two who could link me to that man by name and location, and I needed to make sure it had stayed that way.

  The dancer left the stage—one of the women who’d been hostessing when we first walked in—and the bartender announced Carla.

  She slunk out, looking just like I remembered her, which made me unbelievably sad. I’d escaped this life, but she was still stuck in the thick of it. I was relieved she still had the same quiet dignity to her. Looking back now, I understood why Stella had practically hated her on sight.

  Carla was wearing a few scarves and began her slow striptease. She was gorgeous and knew how to work the crowd. The belly dancing was a new act for her—well, new since I’d last seen her—but she could move her hips in ways I’d never even dreamed of. She had the full attention of the room, every eye on her, with the exception of Jed, who was watching me with concern.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  Carla danced for the next ten minutes, making more money than the other dancers before her. Destiny came around again at the end of the show. “Are you sure you don’t want me, sugar? Carla charges a lot more. Or . . .” I could tell she was thinking fast. “You can have both of us together. How’s that? We can find something else for your girlfriend to do while Carla and I take care of you in the back.”

  He pointed a finger toward the stage. “I want to see her. Just her. Out here.”

  Destiny made an exaggerated pouty face.

  Jed slid her a twenty-dollar bill. “For your trouble. Tell her I’ll make it worth her while.”

  That appeased her. She took the money and suggestively tucked it down the front of her low-cut G-string before moving on to the next table.

  I leaned closer to Jed. “You want to question her here?”

  He leaned closer so that his mouth was next to my ear. “Do they have private rooms?”

  “Yeah.”

  He turned back to watch the people around us. “When she comes by, we’ll see if she’s agreeable to going to a private room to chat. You’re sure no one’s recognized you?”

  “I don’t see anyone else I know, customers included.”

  About five minutes later, Carla emerged from the door to the backstage, her gaze immediately landing on our corner table.

  Jed’s expression and posture didn’t change, but he cast a glance at her as she approached. Then his eyes panned across the rest of the room—it was subtle, but I’d watched him do it all night.

&nb
sp; She glanced over her shoulder before turning toward Jed. “I hear you were askin’ for me. What can I do for you?” Her gaze traveled over his body, and I was surprised at the spark of jealousy burning through my veins. The feeling had caught me off guard, but I could still tell she was acting strangely.

  Her gaze drifted to me. She looked afraid but not surprised. “Kitty.”

  “Hey, Carla.”

  “You need to leave.”

  Jed tensed. “Why?”

  She moved closer to the table, leaning forward so that her boobs were right in front of me. While it might look like a seduction technique to anyone watching us, it was obvious she was trying to cover for what she was about to say. “He’s lookin’ for you, Kitty.”

  “Who?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer. Knowing it anyway.

  “Branson.”

  Chapter 22

  My blood ran cold.

  Jed was on full alert. “When?”

  Carla’s eyes were filled with panic, but she moved closer, thrust out her hip, and said, “Give me twenty dollars.”

  I expected Jed to argue, but he reached into his pocket and slid a bill across the table. Carla began to gyrate her hips.

  Jed sat back in his chair, watching her face. “You weren’t late getting here, were you, Carla?”

  “No,” she said as she moved between his legs. “Destiny was told to try to keep you here. Stan kept me in his office until Branson showed up.”

  “They’re both here?” Jed asked.

  Her face moved to the side of his head, but her answer was loud enough for both of us to hear. “Yes.”

  Branson was here now. We were in the same building.

  I was speechless, but Jed didn’t react in any obvious way. He just sat still in his chair as she air-humped his leg. “Where are they now?”

  “In the back.” Her voice broke. “Branson wants me to keep you busy in a private room so he can come out and talk to Kitty.”

  All of my insecurities rushed back—my terror and my helplessness—but then fury rose up and burned those other emotions to ashes. I was done letting Branson scare me. I needed to stand up to him, and what better time than with Jed with me?

  “I have a plan,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and bending over to give him an up close and personal view of her barely covered breasts. “I’ll go back there to set up the private room, and you take Kitty and get the hell out of here.”

  “How do we know you’re not double-crossing Neel—Kitty now?” Considering a beautiful woman was flashing her nearly naked boobs in his face, Jed was doing a remarkable job of staying on task.

  “Because I tried to help her escape before, and I’m doin’ it again. Listen to me.” She leaned across the table and grabbed my face with one hand, playing it off as another flirty gesture. “You need to leave. Now. If Jed isn’t back there soon after this song ends, Branson will come out here lookin’ for you, Kitty. He looks desperate, which means he’s dangerous.” She dropped her hold on me and began to swivel her hips for Jed again.

  The music stopped, and a thrill of fear shot through me. Our limited time had been cut even shorter.

  “Will he hurt you if we leave?” I asked, already feeling guilty about how Branson would react. I knew about his vicious temper firsthand.

  “Branson Desoto can’t hurt me,” she said. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” She popped up to standing, taking the money with a seductive sweep of her hand. “Run, Kitty. Run far away from here and never look back.” Then she turned to Jed. “If you care anything about her, then get her out of here. Go. I’ll keep them busy in the back.”

  “Come with us,” I pleaded. I didn’t look at Jed before making my request, but something told me that he wouldn’t have a problem with it.

  She shook her head. “Thanks, Kitty, but my life is here. Plus, I have me a good man now. He’ll kick Branson’s ass as soon as he finds out Branson messed with me. And that’s something I’m dying to see.”

  She turned on her heels and started to leave, but I grabbed her arm, then handed her a piece of paper I’d put in my pocket in case I saw her. “Carla. If you change your mind, we’re staying in the Motel 6. Call my number on the back.”

  She nodded, then jerked free and walked away.

  “You shouldn’t have given her that,” Jed said as he grabbed my wrist and tugged me out of my seat.

  “I had to. I owe her.”

  He started to drag me toward the front door.

  “What are you doin’?” I asked, trying to break free. “This is our chance. We need to confront him.”

  “No. If Carla’s right and this is a setup, then we need to get as far away from here as possible.” Without so much as a backward glance, he pulled me into the entrance foyer and pushed me against the wall next to the bouncer. He squatted down and pulled a gun out of a holster strapped to his calf under his jeans. The bouncer’s eyes widened, and he slunk back in fear.

  Slick Willy’s wasn’t exactly the kind of place most people were willing to take a bullet for.

  “We don’t want trouble,” Jed said as he stood, although his body language was broadcasting the exact opposite. “We just want to leave.”

  The bouncer raised his hands in surrender. “I’ve got no beef with you.”

  Jed nodded distractedly as he glanced out the door. Then he pulled me out with him and guided me toward the car.

  “Jed.”

  “Don’t fight me on this, Neely Kate.”

  Part of me wanted to try to get him to confront Branson, but I’d promised him I’d go along with his decisions at the club.

  He put me into the passenger side and then circled around to the driver’s seat. Seconds later, he was pulling out of the parking lot, darting glances at the rearview mirror to make sure we weren’t being tailed.

  “How did Branson know we’d be here?” I asked.

  “Stan. He must have told Stan to call him if you ever showed up. Money talks. Plus, Stella and Beasley could have alerted him that you were asking questions.” He checked his rearview mirror again. “You have something Branson wants. What is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Neely Kate. This isn’t the time to keep secrets from me. What does Branson want?”

  The blood rushed from my head. “I don’t know. Maybe he wants the video.”

  “What video?”

  “The video of me committing murder.”

  Jed’s face went blank. “Why would Branson want that?”

  “I don’t know. Payback?”

  He dug his vibrating phone out of his pocket and then stuck it back in. “Who did you kill, Neely Kate?”

  My mouth went dry.

  “Was it the man who wanted you to sign the paper?”

  I hesitated, but I couldn’t keep it from him. He needed to know. “Yes.”

  “But you killed him in self-defense.” When I didn’t say anything, he cast me a questioning look. “It had to be self-defense.”

  I’d relived that night over and over in my head, trying to justify what I’d done, but no amount of self-reflection could change the facts. I hadn’t needed to murder the man. There had been other options available to me. “I don’t think it was.”

  “I need to know what happened. Who did you kill? What was his name?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, starting to shake. “He never told me his name and neither did Branson. They said he was from Dallas.”

  “What’s on the video, Neely Kate? Everything?”

  “You mean what he did to me? Yeah.”

  “Where’s the video now?”

  “Buried under the azaleas. With his body. I didn’t intend to bury it, but I wasn’t thinkin’ straight after . . . everything. I didn’t realize the video was still in the camera until after we finished.”

  “Beasley helped you bury the body,” he said.

  My mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”

  “You said he was in jail because of you. I knew h
e had to have helped you somehow, and I sure as hell haven’t heard what he did to help you in any other way.” He paused. “How do you know he hasn’t told his brother where you buried him?”

  “Because he doesn’t remember.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “He was drunk as a skunk.”

  “If only Beasley and Branson know the guy’s name,” he said, reasoning through it out loud, “and no one but you knows how to find the body, then Beasley couldn’t have been arrested for anything to do with the murder.” He shook his head. “Beasley went to prison for driving under the influence,” he muttered to himself, then sucked in a deep breath. “Neely Kate, I need to know what’s going on.”

  He was right. It was time to confess. “Beasley knew about the other guys, but he could tell something was off about this one. He couldn’t handle the guilt because he was sure the guy was going to hurt me bad or kill me. An hour after the appointment was supposed to start, he showed up in Branson’s car. I had just . . . the man was already dead. I wanted to call the police, but Beasley convinced me to help him load the body in the back of Branson’s car. He was pretty wasted, so I got behind the wheel, and he climbed into the passenger seat and passed out. I didn’t know what to do. I thought about calling the police anyway, but not only had I killed the man, but I’d moved the body too. I was scared, so I found a couple of shovels in the garage of the house and took off driving.”

  “Where was the guy’s car?”

  “I don’t know. The only car there was Branson’s.”

  “What about when Branson took you there? Was there another car?”

  “No, and the guy was already there.”

  Jed turned to me. “How’d he get there?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, getting agitated.

  “It’s okay, we’ll figure that out later.” His voice was calm and soothing. “Where’d you go after you got the shovels?”

  “The house was in the country, and I headed away from town. I pulled off onto a deserted-looking country road and woke up Beasley. We went several feet into the trees, behind a clump of wild azaleas, and dug a hole.”