As much as I yearned for a long night's sleep, one that doesn't usually end till around ten in the morning, I still love the early morning. Everything is vibrant and fresh.
The parking lot of the Red Rooster was already filling with some of Barnes County's early risers. I parked next to Lisa's Mazda.
I walked through the door and nearly froze. I felt like a kid as I marveled at the decorum that had not been altered in ten years. After so many years, one might forget some of the details. I could see them all; from the cheesy painting of a giant rooster hanging over the cash register. The long counter ran along the side wall, and I could, for a moment, see my father sitting there sipping a cup of coffee and poking fun with "Miss Jean."
"Max," Lisa said, and I was jerked from the bygone days. I felt myself exhale again before I looked at her.
"Do you want to sit at the counter?" she asked.
I looked back at the empty stool. "Why don't we get that table in the corner?"
Lisa nodded and then she navigated the maze around the tables toward the corner. The old men were jibing each other and an occasional cackle would resound from someone's jest. Breakfast was their reprieve for the day. A few moments before the day's work began.
We had seated, and I lifted the laminated menu. The type was newer, and the prices were a bit higher. Otherwise, the food was most likely the same. I looked behind the counter, and Jean Durange was passing a plate of eggs, bacon, and a golden biscuit to an elderly gentleman in faded overalls. Jean Durange may have had a few new wrinkles or a few new white hairs, but she still looked the same to me.
I took another look at the menu. "French toast," I said.
"What?" Lisa asked.
"I think I will have Marty's French toast. He always made the best French toast."
Lisa frowned, "Yeah, but Mr. Durange died a few years ago."
I leaned back with shock.
Lisa answered the question I hadn't had time to ask. "He got lung cancer about three or four years ago. He refused to let Jean close the place. He said he would work until he couldn't stand."
"That's awful. Does Jean run the place alone?"
"Their oldest son, Mike, helps her now. She got some offers to sell, but she refused because it was Marty's place."
"I guess some things do change." I could feel my insides swell, and I fought to retain my composure.
"Morning Lisa." Jean Durange came up behind Lisa.
"Morning, Miss Jean. How are you this morning?"
"Doing well. Everyone is buzzing about these two killings this weekend."
I smiled at the Hellenston news network. Most people probably heard about Mark Lofton on Friday, and Leigh Rozen-Lofton's sudden suicide probably took precedence over whatever Sunday school topics were being preached in the different churches across the county.
"So Lisa, who is your friend?" Jean asked.
"Miss Jean, you remember Max Sawyer, don't you?"
Jean Durange studied me closely. Her eyes examined me up and down. "Ronnie's boy?"
"Yes ma'am," I said.
She smiled a large grin, "Well, I'll be. Haven't you grown up? Well, stand up and give me a hug."
I submitted as she continued to speak, "I haven't seen you in years. How are you doing?"
"I'm good."
"I remember you and your dad used to come in here all the time for breakfast."
"Yes ma'am," I responded.
"Well," she said slowly as she shook her head, "I best get your order. Other folks'll get hungry if I don't get in gear."
"I would love the French toast," I said, "and a cup of coffee."
Jean looked at Lisa, "How about you, hon?"
"Two eggs scrambled, and a slice of toast."
"Want some coffee?"
"Yes ma'am," Lisa answered.
Miss Jean turned and carried our order to the kitchen. Within a minute she had returned with two cups of coffee. I immediately doctored mine with a bit of sugar and a dash of cream. Lisa, however, wasted no time by drinking it black.
"Can I ask you a question?" Lisa prodded.
I lifted my head from my coffee so that my eyes met hers. She glowed with personal curiosity. "I suppose."
"You never come home. Nobody has seen you in over a decade. Why?"
I shrugged, "Why come here? I have no family left here. Besides, I have been back on occasion."
"You missed our ten-year reunion back in May," Lisa said.
"I know, but I didn't think I would be all that welcome. I have a feeling that there are still a few people here who don't care too much for me. And I feel the same towards them."
Lisa batted her eyes and replied, "That's not a healthy attitude to have."
"Thanks for your opinion, Dr. Laura."
Lisa narrowed her gaze at me, "I don't think anyone holds a grudge against you."
"What about Peter Daniels? He didn't seem excited to see me. I am sure you got an earful after I left."
"No, Peter didn't say a word. But he's different."
"So, his brother went to prison on my account, and it's okay for him to begrudge me. I suppose I should forgive all. I mean my folks were only murdered in their sleep."
Lisa's face drooped, "I didn't mean that. Of course, there are going to be those feelings. Most people in this town were relieved when Hanson went to prison. Most folks prayed and cried about you. For years, people wondered about you."
"Nothing to really wonder about. I got on with my life."
"Did you really? You just vanished the day after they sentenced Hanson and Daniels."
"I did get on with my life. I left the past here. I didn't forget it."
Lisa touched my hand, "I'm glad you came back. I'm sure Mandy was happy to see you. Obviously, Miss Jean is, too."
I smiled. Lisa smiled back, and for a second I didn't want to look away.
"Did I ever tell you that I read all of your articles?" Lisa asked.
"No." I was a bit surprised. I had a degree in journalism and had written for the Memphis paper for about a year. Most of my stuff had been basic police blotter: rape, murder, and burglaries.
"We get most of the major papers from the area. Little Rock, Fayetteville, Memphis. I was just a reporter, but I made it a mission to read every word in every paper. I remember seeing your first piece. I started looking for them after that."
I laughed, "I'm impressed. Unfortunately, none of them were Pulitzer pieces."
"Whose are?" Lisa said.
"Good point."
"You quit?"
"Yeah, I found out I hated journalists."
"Hey," Lisa grinned.
"Present company excluded."
Our conversation halted as our breakfast arrived. I sliced into the golden brown toast. I placed the bite into my mouth, and I let my palette absorb the flavor. It may not have been Marty's French toast, but it was still delicious.
I was about halfway through my toast when I raised my eyes to see Scott Gaither entering through the door. I continued to chew the bite of toast slowly as I peered at him. Gaither immediately noticed me. He gave a half smile before moving toward us.
"Mr. Sawyer," he said as he pulled a chair away from the table and sat down, "do you mind if I join you?"
He nodded to Lisa, "How are you, Lisa?"
"I'm fine, Scott."
"You look hungry, Scott. Why don't you buy us some breakfast?"
Scott smirked, "Fine, I'll treat. You just tell me what the two of you were doing at Ms. Rozen's trailer this morning."
I glanced at Lisa and lifted an eyebrow. She also looked a bit shocked.
"I don't hear any explanations," Scott said gruffly.
"I can assure you," I stated, "that we did not tamper with any evidence."
"You're a smartass!"
"I know," I beamed proudly.
Lisa jumped into the fray saying, "Scott, we were just trying to find anything unusual."
"There is something unusual about two people nosing around a crime scene."
"When did suicide become a crime?" I asked matter-of-factly.
Scott shot me with a look and said, "Shut up, Sawyer."
"Scott..." Lisa started.
"No, Lisa," Scott cut her off, "this man is about to be arrested for obstruction of justice. If you don't have any desire to share a cell with him, then you better stay clear of him."
Scott turned his gaze toward me, "Sawyer, consider yourself lucky. I really have no desire to arrest Lisa here, so I am letting you off this time. If you cross me again, I will throw you in jail."
I took a long sip of coffee and then leaned closer to Sheriff Gaither. "I dare you to arrest me," I whispered, "I'm betting that you couldn't keep there long."
Scott refused to break his stare as he warned, "Try me."
I took the last bite of my French toast and chewed it slowly. Lisa stared at us fearfully waiting for the next onslaught of verbal assaults. Scott continued to scowl at me.
I laid the fork on the table. I handed the menu to Scott, "Don't you want to order something?"
Scott stood up, "I think I lost my appetite."
"I hope you didn't lose your wallet," I said handing him the check. Scott walked away quickly, and I laid the check back on the table. I finished my coffee while Lisa gawked blankly at me.
I smiled, "He certainly seems happy that I came back."
"Why are you taunting him? He could arrest you."
"He could, but he probably won't. Unless he can make it stick."
Lisa wrinkled her brow, "Don't bet against Scott, he is a pretty good guy."
I shrugged and said, "I am sorry I was rude to him."
Lisa said, "I don't think you really are sorry. I guess that's okay, though."
"You're right, I'm not. Although I am certain that Scott is a good guy."
"What do you plan to do today?" Lisa changed the subject.
"I need to connect Nichols. What do you think you can get?"
"I can see. I could always interview him under the pretense of talking about this case. This is the biggest murder case ...."
"In a decade." I finished her thought.
"I didn't mean..."
"It's okay," I assured her.
Lisa snatched the check and took a glimpse at it. She pulled a twenty from her purse and dropped it on the table. Miss Jean materialized to take the money.
"Thanks for the breakfast," I said as we walked out of the Red Rooster.
"Do you want to meet me later? We can see if we have gotten any leads."
"Sounds good," I said as I escorted Lisa to her car. "How about lunch?"
"Meet me at the paper about noon. We can find a bite to eat around there."
"See you at noon," I said as she leaned in and placed a small kiss on my cheek.
I opened her door and let her into her car. I stood there and watched as she drove out of the lot. I reached into my pocket and began searching for my keys.
"Hey!" A voice called.
I spun around to see three men beside a blue truck across the lot. My heart stopped for a second as I found myself face to face with Billy Daniels. Billy was Peter Daniels brother who had gone to prison for his involvement in my parent's murder. He had helped Sheriff Hanson attempt to suppress some of the evidence. He had been convicted, and until this moment, I thought he was still in prison.
"Max Sawyer," Daniels sneered, "I heard that you were in town."
I stood silent.
"Don't you think you should be leaving? I'm sure you don't have any pressing business here." Daniels moved closer.
"Billy, you might want to be careful. I'm not a kid anymore, and I don't take too kindly to threats."
"Who's threatening you? I just don't want anything to happen to you. I might be blamed for something I had nothing to do with."
I pride myself on my self-control, but in that instant I became enraged. I leaped forward, and in two steps, I jumped up and kicked Billy Daniels in the stomach.
Billy doubled over with a grunt. His two companions took only half a second to descend upon me. I was mad, fighting quickly to keep them at bay. Suddenly my feet buckled as Billy tackled me from behind.
I hit the ground, and Billy was coming down on me. I winced in anticipation.
"Billy! Stop it, Billy!"
I couldn't see who was shouting, but I was grateful for the breather.
"I was just talking to him," Billy said, "He started it."
I peeked past Billy to see the voice's owner. I was surprised to see Peter Daniels standing there ordering his older brother off of me.
"Billy," Peter said, "they will send you back in a heartbeat. Just leave him alone."
Billy Daniels frowned at me and scoffed, "Fine, I'm going."
I sat up and watched Billy walk into the Red Rooster. Several of the patrons had exited to watch the commotion. Peter walked over to me and offered his hand. I took hold of it and pulled myself to my feet.
"Sorry about him, Max."
"Thanks, Peter." I brushed myself off and said, "He was right, I hit him first."
Peter shook his head, "If I know my brother, he was asking for it."
"He was," I said, "but thanks again."
"He's still my brother," Peter began, "but I am really sorry for what he has done to you."
I wanted to say something, but I was speechless. I couldn't find the right words, so I stood silently.
"I always looked up to him as a kid. I guess people change."
"Sometimes they do," was all I could think to say.
"I need to go, Max. I'll see you around."
"See ya, Peter," I said as he walked inside the Red Rooster.
I walked back to my car thinking about what Lisa had said earlier. It was 7:15 a.m., and I was already having an eventful day. I needed a shower and a change of clothes. I wanted to see Tom in order to give him an update on the recent happenings, but he wouldn't be in his office until after eight. I had a little time to get back to the boat and squeeze in a shower.
27
Mandy was still asleep when I left the boat again. I scrawled a note for her before I headed to Tom's office. I had showered quickly as I was in a hurry to talk to Tom. Despite my rush, I thought I would stop and grab a couple of jelly doughnuts. Tom was a connoisseur of jelly doughnuts, so I gave him a small selection of strawberry, blueberry,
and raspberry.
I walked into his office at 8:34 a.m. Mrs. McEwan sat behind her desk staring into her computer. Her eyes looked over her glasses as I entered, and her head never wavered.
"Mr. Sawyer," she said.
"Good morning, Mrs. McEwan."
"I see you are still in town. I assumed by now you would be rock climbing the Amazon."
"I am waiting for you to come along."
Her lips puckered like she had a lemon tight between them. She ignored me and returned immediately to her computer screen.
"I dropped by to talk to Tom," I said.
Mrs. McEwan stopped typing and turned her head. "You didn't just come to see me?"
I was stunned and taken aback by such sarcasm and wit coming from her. I would have been less surprised to hear her curse me. Nonetheless, I couldn't let her get in the last blow. I leaned over her desk and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek.
"Max," came Tom's voice, "come on back."
"Later," I winked at Mrs. McEwan.
I walked into Tom's office and tossed the bag of jelly doughnuts across the desk.
"What's this?" Tom asked as he tore open the sack like a wild dog.
"A sacrificial offering."
Tom pulled the blueberry doughnut from the bag and said, "Thanks, Max. What are you trying to butter me up for?"
"Nothing," I said, "but I do have a bit of a break that I wanted to talk to you about."
Tom nodded, and I proceeded to relate everything that had transpired since yesterday morning. I started with J.T.'s Club and Lofton's apparent theft. I finished with my return to Leigh Rozen's trailer and my subsequent discovery.
I pulled the cigarette butt from my pocket and laid it gently on his desk.
"What is this?"
"A Dunhill cigarette butt."
"So!" Tom seemed a bit flustered.
"It's an unusual brand. Probably not easy to buy in this town. But it is also the preferred cigarette of Charlie Nichols."
Tom craned his neck forward and said in a deep, solemn voice, "Are you telling me that Charlie Nichols killed Leigh Rozen?"
"I believe so. Maybe even Mark Lofton."
"This is absurd," Tom said, "Charlie is Amanda Rawls' lawyer. This is purely circumstantial."
"I know, this whole case is very strange."
"Max, stop this. I knew it was a mistake to call you." Tom's glare turned menacing.
"Tom..." I started.
"No, Max," he cut me off, "I don't want you in this. You are going to ruin a man's reputation with your stupid conspiracies and accusations."
"Tom..." I tried to speak again, but he stopped me again.
"Did it occur to you that perhaps the police are right? Maybe Amanda Rawls did kill Mark Lofton. Maybe not. Either way, I want you to stay out of this. If you don't, so help me, I will have you charged with obstruction of justice.
"Now, thank you for the doughnuts, but I have a lot of work to do. I have to see your girlfriend in court tomorrow."
I had never seen Tom this angry about anything. I was unable to speak. I stood silently and shuffled away like the scolded child I was.
28
I was still reeling from the verbal lashing I had just received. I felt like a teenager who just brought home a poor report card. I stood in front of the courthouse shaking with a fear I hadn't felt in years.
For a split second, an urge to leave came over me. I could climb into my car, and in three hours, I could be sitting in my apartment in Memphis.
I walked past my parked car, though. I always feel the need to walk whenever I find myself lost. If I walk long enough, eventually I find where I am.
I passed all the stores on Main Street. Each step seemed to move me into my conundrum. Tom had been like a father to me over the past few years. He was like a brother to my own father. Hell, he was family.
And right now, I was compelled to defy him. I wanted to prove him wrong, or maybe I wanted to show him that I was right.
Blood Remembered Page 10
