by Scott Pratt
Apparently, Clarise hadn’t noticed the growing stigma of being a Thompson in Autumn, Florida.
Somehow Jarvis managed to avoid most of the lethal pitfalls. But trouble, serious trouble, was always lurking in the neighborhood.
Billy barely noticed the plane touching down as he flashed back to the night the whole thing hit bottom, when Denise Rollins was killed in front of the house. Jarvis had been on his phone and let her leave without an escort. A passing car screeched to a halt near Denise. A man leaned out the back passenger window and fired three shots.
Jarvis was ready to take up arms himself when he made the panic-stricken call just before midnight, but Billy talked him out of it and got in his car and drove all night from Tennessee. By then it was painfully clear that football was Jarvis’s only chance to get away, and if things weren’t handled right, football wouldn’t be enough to save him.
“You’re better than this,” Billy told him at Denise’s funeral. “You’ve got so many things going for you … don’t let these people ruin your life. I can help you, and I’ll always be there.”
A year later, Jarvis was in Knoxville.
Chapter Twenty-six
Billy made his way along the East Bay loop, past the old plantation estates that showed the best side of Autumn and on through the quaint downtown area. He was headed to the other side of the tracks at the far end of town.
The dilapidated gray house on Bright Street, a misnomer if there ever was one, was in even worse shape than he imagined. The roof was missing shingles, the siding was splintered. What little paint that remained on the trim was in the process of flaking off. A few of the shutters had long since fallen and were obscured by knee-high weeds.
The inside of the house surely had to be a living hell, Billy thought. He wondered how Jarvis, or anybody else, could call this place home.
The skies were starting to spit rain as he walked up the broken sidewalk, past the spot where Denise had been killed. Hopefully, he thought, this wouldn’t be one of those torrential Florida downpours. oBilly opened the aluminum storm door, which had no glass and was at the mercy of the shifting wind, and knocked loudly.
After a couple of minutes, Clarise appeared. She looked surprised to have a visitor in the middle of the day. And this was certainly not one she wanted to entertain.
She was a large woman wearing a faded blue bathrobe over a nightgown that she could have had on for days. The hateful expression on her face was even more pronounced with Billy suddenly at her door, and it didn’t take her long to start in.
“Where the hell is my son?” she snapped. “I thought you were supposed to be looking after him. And now he disappears from your own house and there’s drugs all around. And you’re giving him money, too. You never gave me any. You’re one hell of an agent.”
Clarise glared, long and hard. Billy could tell she had already been drinking that morning, but he expected that. He calmly stood his ground.
“Good to see you, too, Clarise,” he said. “Mind if I come in?”
“Yes I do mind. There’s nothing for you to do here. You’ve made a big enough mess already.”
“I’m just trying to find Jarvis. You don’t have any idea where he might be? I thought maybe something had gotten back to you from your friends down here.”
“He don’t call me much anymore,” Clarise said. “You know that.”
“But you call him. I know a few days ago you were still trying to talk him into signing with Sonny Bradley.”
“So?”
“What’s that guy going to do for you? I can tell you, those New Orleans gangsters are bad news. They don’t care about Jarvis, and they sure don’t care about you.”
“They’ll do more than you ever will,” she said.
“Is it possible they’re involved with his disappearance?”
“I’d say it’s more possible that you are involved. I haven’t trusted you since you took out that insurance policy.”
Here we go again, Billy thought.
“That was for his own protection, Clarise,” he said. “We’ve been over that a few times. I was his guardian, because of your state of mind, which doesn’t seem to be getting any better, and we wanted to insure him against any disabling injuries. It has nothing to do with this.”
“What’s going to happen to me if he don’t turn up and play football again? Jarvis was supposed to take care of me. He said he would.”
This was the way conversations went with Clarise. Always the victim. It didn’t take long for Billy to get his fill this time. He had to fight the urge to grab her by the throat.
“You’re a selfish woman,” he said. “I’m looking out for Jarvis, like I always have. For some reason, that isn’t good enough for you.”
“You’re just a con man, Billy. Jarvis is going to make you a lot of money, and you know it. That’s the only reason you’re here now.”
Billy took a deep breath and tried to collect himself. He hadn’t come all the way down here to stand in the rain and trade insults with a drunk.
“Clarise, let’s just get to the bottom line here,” he said. “Your son is missing and we don’t know what happened to him. Do you know of anyone who wanted to hurt him?”
“Hurt him? Everybody loves Jarvis. It’s always been that way. He’s a good boy … even that lowlife father of his cares about him. And he don’t care about much of anything.”
“Where is Charles, anyway?” Billy asked. “This whole thing feels like something he might be involved in. Or is he back in prison again?”
“I have no idea, but I heard he was in New Orleans a while back. I don’t want him around here. He’s never been nothing but trouble.”
“What about Dante?”
“Haven’t seen him in weeks.”
“There’s just trouble everywhere you turn here,” Billy said. “You should be grateful that Jarvis escaped this hellhole.”
Clarise staggered and tried to slam the door, but Billy shoved it back in her face.
“For what it’s worth, this isn’t just about Jarvis,” he said. “I’ve got a brother who’s lying up in the hospital in Tennessee. I’m trying hard to believe that it wasn’t Jarvis who put him there.”
“You know better than that, Billy. You just find my son and get him back on the field. I got nothing else to say to you.”
The door closed and Billy walked back to the car. He knew he hadn’t seen the last of Clarise, unless she just dropped over dead. That was too much to hope for.
Billy rubbed his hands through his wet hair and picked up his phone. Mark Fletcher had left a message.
The private eye was checking around and sounded like he might have turned up something. He was anxious to talk about the case.
Billy decided to spend the night in Pensacola and see where the leads might take them.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Before he left Autumn, Billy wanted to talk to Ed Shelton, Jarvis’s high school coach. They hadn’t spoken in person since the tragic night that Denise Rollins was killed, but he knew Shelton would be keeping up with the Thompsons and all their drama. He used to take Jarvis in when times got really tough and Clarise was near her breaking point. If anyone in Autumn was looking out for the kid’s best interests, it was his old coach.
Billy glanced at his watch. The high school was only a couple of blocks over, and he figured Shelton was probably getting ready for practice.
The rain had stopped and the players were on the field stretching when Billy walked up from the parking lot. Shelton noticed him immediately and cut him off at the sidelines with a stern look.
“Hello, Billy,” he said. “Sorry to hear about Jarvis, and your brother, too. I take it there’s nothing new today?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Why are you here?”
“I don’t want to interfere with your pr
actice, coach, but I was hoping we could go down here and talk for a few minutes before you get started. I’ll make it quick.”
Shelton instructed an assistant to take over, and the men walked to the far end of the field and into the bleachers behind the end zone. They didn’t bother to sit.
“Please tell me how you could allow this to happen,” Shelton said, becoming more animated. “Jarvis had to go through so much to get where he is. He’s a hero to these young players; I use him as an example all the time of how their lives can be better if they stay out of trouble and work hard. How does he end up in a situation like this?”
“We’re all looking for answers right now. We don’t even know exactly what the situation is. I just left his mother’s house, and she acted completely clueless. I think she knows more than she’s letting on, although it’s always hard to tell.”
“You know dealing with Clarise is a waste of time.”
“I had to make the effort under the circumstances,” Billy said. “You have your finger on the pulse here, Ed. You know what people are doing and thinking. What can you tell me?”
“Not much. I certainly have no idea where Jarvis is, or what happened to him. I do know that some guy from New Orleans was down here recently. Supposedly an agent that visited with Clarise. I also heard that Charles had been back in the area not too long ago. That’s another bad sign.”
Billy stared out at Shelton’s players as they lined up for drills.
The Eagles were a perennial power in the region and typically had a handful of players sign major-college scholarships each year. Few were as coveted as Jarvis, who had led the team to state prominence, but Shelton treated them all the same.
Billy could tell they were wary of the stranger who was distracting their coach, interrupting his strict practice schedule.
“I won’t take any more of your time,” Billy said. “Please let me know if anything comes up. Anything at all.”
Shelton managed a half-hearted smile, pulled the whistle from his pocket and started to walk toward the field. Back to work.
He stopped for a final thought.
“I don’t know if I’d stick around town for long if I were you,” he said.
That caught Billy by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, this town has been heavily invested in Jarvis for a long time. He’s special. Some of the people didn’t like to see him going off to Tennessee to play ball to begin with. Most have accepted it by now; they can see he’s headed for big things, and they’ll be proud when he’s representing Autumn in the NFL. They’ll feel like they’re part of it. But now, all of a sudden, Jarvis is missing and who knows what’s going to happen.”
“So it’s my fault?” Billy said.
“I’m not saying that. Just thought you might not want to linger too long down here. We’re a small community, but we have our share of crazies.”
“For what it’s worth, Ed, I’m not a very popular guy in Tennessee right now either.”
“I can appreciate that. I’m sorry you’re in this mess. Really.”
“You have to know I’ll do anything to find Jarvis and get him back on track. Forget football, he’s like a little brother to me.”
Shelton looked Billy straight in the eye.
“I hope that’s enough,” he said. “I have to be honest with you, man, I thought going to Knoxville would be the best thing that ever happened to that kid. It got him out of that cesspool he grew up in, away from his mother. But now I don’t know. This is bad.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Sonny Bradley stirred up a cloud of dust as he wheeled into the parking lot of an old warehouse down on the New Orleans waterfront.
Red-faced, he sprang from the car in a huff and strode quickly toward a side entrance. He didn’t get far. Three men intercepted Bradley at the door and escorted him into the building. He was in no mood for interference.
“What’s going on, Frank?” he barked as he burst into the office.
One of the men put a hand on Bradley’s shoulder and stopped him in his tracks. Frank Romano just smiled as he leaned back in his big chair at the far end of the smoky room.
“It’s all right,” he said with a nod. “Let Sonny have his say.”
The agent caught his breath and took a seat across the table from Romano, who casually lit another cigarette.
“This thing with Jarvis Thompson has gotten way out of hand,” Bradley said. “I’ve had reporters calling me and asking me all sorts of questions. The NFL people are suddenly a lot more interested in what we’re doing down here. There’s plenty of trouble brewing. It’s just not worth it.”
“Not worth it?” Romano said. “We’ve been backing this little sports business of yours, building it up, and now it’s not worth it?”
“Not if it all comes crashing down on my head,” Bradley said. “I thought we were just trying to steal the kid away from Billy Beckett, you know, give ourselves a big-time client in the NFL for years to come. Now he’s missing, Beckett’s brother is damn near dead, and the whole country is wondering what happened. It’s only a matter of time before this all comes home to roost. That’s just common sense.”
Romano leaned forward and glared at Bradley with a clenched jaw. There was fire in his eyes.
“I run the show here,” he roared, pounding the table with his fist. “I’ll decide how this plays out. We’re going to be a player in everything around here, with or without you. If you can’t sit tight, maybe I’m backing the wrong guy. You know I’ve got other options. Always.”
The agent suddenly turned meek. Crossing Frank Romano was never a smart play.
“I just don’t understand why all the bother over this one kid,” he said. “It’s college football, for God’s sake. There are a lot of other great players out there. Why can’t we just make our money and go about business quietly? We know a lot of people, and we’ve been doing good.”
“Good ain’t good enough,” Romano said. “Jarvis Thompson is different; he’s a superstar, and I have a special interest in him. That’s not going to change.”
“Then what happened to him?”
Romano sat back. “You don’t want to know,” he said. “You just go back to town and let me handle things. Stay calm and keep your mouth shut. You don’t know anything.”
“Maybe not, but a lot of people are looking for him. I heard this morning that his brother has already been contacting some of our acquaintances in Florida, checking around.”
“How do you know that?”
“They called me and told me about it. It’s the same ones who said he’d been trying to find his old man earlier. I believe his name is Dante. Supposedly crashed and was in rehab somewhere in Florida. Looks like he’s out and running loose again.”
“If he’s like his old man, he’s a doper that can be easily dealt with. I’ve got more important things to worry about.”
“No doubt about that. This is turning into an international incident. Why would you bring that on yourself? On all of us?”
“That’s enough. You’re getting paranoid, and that’s never a healthy thing. I told you to just let me worry about it. It’ll all work out fine in the end.”
“If you say so, Frank. There are just a lot of loose ends. I hope you can tie them all up and we can move on. I’m not going to be the fall guy here.”
Bradley got up and left the room, and Romano started to smile. That made his men smile, too.
“You guys go outside,” he said. “Sonny seemed awfully nervous. Make sure he gets home safely.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
The yellow Hummer stood out like a beacon as it circled the block and pulled to the curb in front of a ramshackle collection of row houses.
The two men on the corner looked around warily, checking for cops or other signs of trouble before approaching the driver’s win
dow. Rich people cruised through the neighborhood all the time, looking to score drugs, and this had all the markings of a quick transaction.
The heavily tinted glass slid down, and a smile broke out on the smaller man’s face.
“Look at you,” he said. “Where in the hell did you get this?”
Dante Thompson took a draw of his cigarette and grinned. “Just taking it for a test drive. Get in.”
“Shotgun,” said the man, who hurried around to the other side of the vehicle while his friend slid into the back seat. Dante flipped his cigarette butt into the street and sped away.
“Brother, I thought you were drying out somewhere,” said the man in the back. “Didn’t think we’d see you back in Pensacola for a while.”
“I didn’t either. Something came up and I need to talk to you boys. If I can count on anybody, it’s T.J. and Isaac. Right?”
T.J., the passenger in front, pursed his lips. “Let me guess. This has to do with your brother. He’s all over the news. They say he went off on some guy up in Tennessee, after the game. Or else somebody snatched him and made it look that way. Which is it?”
“Jarvis isn’t stupid; he’s going to the NFL,” Dante said. “He’s not like some other fools down here. I’ve been talking to his roommate, and he’s sure Jarvis was kidnapped from his agent’s house there on the river. He thinks the whole thing was set up.”
“Set up by who?”
“I have an idea, but we need to be sure.”
“We?” T.J. said. “What are you trying to pull, Dante?”
“Getting ready to take a little trip and set things right. If the cops can’t do it, can’t find him, I will. But I need some extra muscle. You boys owe me.”
“Are you talking about those guys in New Orleans that killed your father? I don’t know, man. We have gangs here, but that’s a different deal. That’s mafia.”
