“You’re amazing,” he sighed.
I wasn’t so sure that he’d be saying that if he knew where I was planning to go later tonight. But his undercover plans took away the guilt of my own secret mission.
I told him about eating lunch with Neely Kate and what she’d found out about the investment company buying the murder victim’s house.
“It’s definitely worth checking into.”
“Neely Kate also said they were goin’ to wrap the trial up on Wednesday. If I don’t prove Bruce Decker’s innocent by then, he’ll have to go through appeals and that could take years. Is that true?”
“Yeah, that’s most likely what would happen.”
My cold chicken wasn’t sitting well in my stomach.
“Rose, this is not your responsibility. I appreciate that you feel that you have to help him, but think about what he was doin’ when he saw the murder. He was robbin’ the hardware store. He was going to go to prison for that anyway.”
“For how long?”
“Five to ten years, most likely. Out in three to six years for good behavior.”
“And second-degree murder?”
“At least twenty.”
I sighed. “I gotta go.”
“Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not, I promise. But I told Neely Kate I’d meet her later. Girls’ night out.” There, I’d told him. No guilt.
“You have fun and be careful.”
“I will.”
“I love you, Rose.”
“I love you too, Joe.”
I glanced at the clock. 7:15, which didn’t leave me much time to get ready.
Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I put on my makeup. While I’d never been to a pool hall, I suspected that if I was going to get information, I had to dress up more than I usually did. And by dress up, I meant wearing the right costume.
The situation reminded me of the night I went to meet Daniel Crocker at the Trading Post, a local bar. Crocker had threatened to hurt Violet if I didn’t show up with a flash drive that was supposed to be full of information.
But that was different. Tonight I was going to the pool hall on my own free will. And I was meeting Neely Kate. Completely innocent.
As long as I kept telling myself that, maybe I’d believe it.
I left the house at ten to eight. I’d considered wearing jeans, but it was too doggone hot. Instead, I wore a white skirt and a silky light blue blouse. I’d bought it a couple of weeks earlier to go out with Joe but hadn’t worn yet. I hated to waste it on the pool hall, but the black blouse I’d worn to the Trading Post had gotten ripped open by Daniel Crocker. The only other sexy thing I owned was my red dress, and that was too fancy. I just had to make do. There wasn’t time to shop for slutty clothes. My hair was curled and I had on twice as much makeup as I usually wore. With Neely Kate’s help, I might be able to pull this off.
As I drove, I tried to figure out a plan. I didn’t know anything about the bookie, other than he or she worked at the pool hall. I’d just have to wing it. Besides, Neely Kate was smart and worldly. She’d figure something out.
The parking lot wasn’t very full when I parked, but then, it was a Monday night. Business probably wouldn’t be booming. Staring at the building, I realized I didn’t know what kind of car Neely Kate drove. She might already be inside. My hands wrung the steering wheel while I tried to figure out what to do.
A man walked past my Nova, casting a quizzical glance my direction. If I didn’t go in, I was going to look suspicious.
Sucking in a breath to steady my nerves, I got out of the car.
Here goes nothing.
A flashing neon sign advertised beer in the window and the smell of it hit me when I opened the door. I expected the place to be dimly lit, but the lamps over the tables created puddles of light, brightening up the room.
Scanning the hall for Neely Kate, I quickly realized she wasn’t there. My heartbeat picked up. I was on my own.
I could do this. I survived my encounter with Daniel Crocker at the Trading Post, and he’d planned to kill me if I didn’t provide the flash drive. Then I reminded myself I hadn’t gotten myself out of that mess at all. Joe had. And Joe was two hours away.
Oh, crappy doodles.
What on earth was I doing here?
If I turned around and left now, I might not get any information at all. I should at least get a drink and think this through.
I ordered a bottle of beer and sat on a stool. It was next to a small table against the wall and gave me a good view of the premises. After taking a good look around, I decided most of the men didn’t look scary. Most looked like guys wanting to spend a night away from their families, hanging out with their friends. But a group of three in the back reminded me of Crocker and his men. They swaggered around a pool table, leaning on their sticks like the world was theirs for the taking. I watched them for a second before turning my attention elsewhere. But not before I noticed the gaze of one of the men fall on me.
I’d bet a lifetime supply of Suzanne’s tanning lotion that those were the men I needed to talk to.
Where was Neely Kate?
The guy who’d turned his attention to me sauntered my direction. I took a big chug of my beer, hoping it would give me the courage I lacked at the moment.
The man sat in the chair across from me. He was a good-looking man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard, but he had an edge to him that made me uncomfortable. Muscles stretched his t-shirt and tattoos peeked out under his sleeves. Resting an elbow on the table, he held his beer bottle over the table edge and leaned forward. “Well, hello there, gorgeous. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”
Even with my lack of experience, I knew that had to be a tacky pickup line. The question was how to handle it. I decided to go with my instinct. After taking another long drink, I set the bottle down. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
Where had this Sassy Rose come from? It had to be the beer. I loved beer.
He tilted his head back and laughed, a deep throaty sound. When he recovered, he winked. “I think that earns you a drink.” He went over to the bar and brought back two bottles, handing one to me. Holding up his beer, he grinned. “Here’s to what’s looking like an interesting evening.”
I clicked my bottle into his, then took a drink.
“Are you here all alone?” He put his arm along the back of the chair across from me.
“I’m waiting for a friend. She should be here any minute.”
His mouth lifted into a slow lazy grin.
I suspected I’d just said the wrong thing. To hide my shaking hand, I took another drink. Crappy doodles. I’d been here less than ten minutes and drank one and a half bottles of beer. I needed to slow down.
“You wanna shoot some pool while you wait for your friend?”
“Let me check if she’s tried to call.” Searching the contents of my purse revealed my mistake. I’d charged my cell phone before I left. And never unplugged it.
I had two choices: leave or stay. The whole purpose of me being here was to get information and I suspected my opportunity had just presented itself. I smiled. “Sure.”
I took a long sip of my beer and set it down before I slid from the stool. He stood in front of me, extending his hand. “Skeeter.”
“Uh…” I couldn’t tell him my real name. “Jane.”
Instead of shaking my hand, he held onto it, slipping his other arm around my back. “Well, Jane. How good are you at pool?” He led me to the back corner, where his two friends watched, not bothering to hide their grins of approval.
Where in the dickens was Neely Kate?
“I’ve never played.”
His eyebrows raised and he studied me. “Then what’s a nice girl like you doin’ at a pool hall all alone when you’ve never played before?”
His friend handed him a bottle and Skeeter pressed it into my left hand, still holding onto my right. “My friend…Sasha…she’s getting married next week
so we decided to get a little loose and crazy and do something we’ve never done before. Like play pool… I mean shoot pool.” Why did I always babble when I was anxious?
Skeeter hovered over me, making me nervous. The condensation from the cold bottle dripped down my fingers, tempting me to take another drink to bolster my courage.
“I like loose and crazy,” he said.
I pulled my hand from his and took a step back, holding my bottle in front of me. “Then it’s your lucky night.” Before I realized what I was doing, I’d taken another long sip, then set the bottle down with a clang.
Skeeter’s butt rested against the side of a pool table, his hands behind him, drumming on the edge. He smirked. “I guess it is.”
He was too sure of himself to suit me, and the beer had begun coursing through my veins. “You gonna show me how to do this or what?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Eager, huh? I like that. I’ll get you a cue.”
While he was gone, his friends checked me out. I gave them the best haughty look I could muster. A difficult task when I couldn’t feel my face.
An arm slipped over my shoulders and I looked up in to Skeeter’s face, his beer breath blasting me. He handed me a pole. “This here’s the cue stick. You line it up with that white ball and hit it so that the white ball hits another ball and sinks it into a pocket.”
His condescending tone rankled my nerves. “I’ve heard of pool. I just haven’t played it.”
Skeeter chuckled. “Just trying to make sure you know the rules.”
I looked into his face, wondering if I had missed something in my beer-hazed state.
His arm dropped from my shoulder and he moved over to the table. Grabbing a rack from the wall, he scooped up the balls and rearranged them, then rolled the rack back and forth until he had them where he wanted them. He lifted the wooden rack and left the balls in a perfect triangle. Bracing his hands on the table edge, he leaned forward, staring at me. “Do you know what to do now, Jane?”
It took me a second to realize that he was talking to me. “Yeah, you have to get the stripes or the solids into the pockets.”
“And who gets to decide who’s stripes or solids?”
“I dunno.”
“The person who sinks the first ball.” He picked up his cue and leaned over the table then struck the white ball. It slammed into the triangle, sending balls everywhere. Several dropped into the holes.
Showoff.
Still hanging over his pool cue, he leered at me.
Where the hell was Neely Kate?
Skeeter took a long drag of his beer and set it down on the table. “Come ’ere and let me help you hit the ball.”
“I can do it by myself.” Grabbing my stick, I walked over, trying not to wobble in my heels. I stopped at the side of the table, directly in front of the white ball. “So what do you pick? Solids or stripes?”
He slid closer, resting his hand on my shoulder. “How about I go easy on you. There’s more stripes left on the table. I’ll let you have solids.”
Hunching over the table, I rested the cue on the ledge, lining it up with the white ball and a red ball behind it, aiming for the pocket. I stared down the length of the stick and slid it between my fingers like I’d watched Skeeter do. Then I pulled and hit it, the white ball smacking the red ball and shooting it into the pocket. I stood up with a grin.
“I believe you’ve been holding out on me, Jane.”
I lifted my eyebrows.
“What do you say we make this more interestin’?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a wagerin’ man. Let’s wager on the game.”
Skeeter was a wagering man. Ten to one he knew the bookie that Frank Mitchell owed money to. Still, it was a fool’s bet. And I didn’t even know what was at risk. “Not a chance.”
He turned his back to the table and crossed his arms across his chest. “Scared?”
I put a hand on my hip and jutted it out. “My momma didn’t raise no fool.” Where did that come from? Damn beer.
He chuckled sliding closer. “You don’t even know what the wager is yet.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need to. We both know I made a lucky shot. I’ve got no chance of winnin’ against you.”
“What if I played you with one hand behind my back?”
“Why would I do that? What am I gonna win?” More important, what was I going to lose?
His eyebrow waggled. “What do you want?”
I swallowed my instinctive gag. Not you. But I knew what I wanted. I just didn’t know how to go about asking for it without giving myself away. “You know, when Susan—I mean Sasha—and I were coming here tonight, we wanted to try new things. You know. Playin’ pool and…” I lowered my gaze and glanced up through my eyelashes. “Placing a bet,” I whispered. “I heard you could do that here.”
A wicked grin spread across his face. He licked his top lip. “I can help you with that.”
“And if you win?”
Reaching up his hand, nice and slow as though I was a wild animal that might run away, he brushed the hair off my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “A kiss.”
I shook my head with a frown. “No way. I don’t even know you.”
“You’ll know me better after you kiss me.”
Crappy doodles. Why had I played my hand already? Now that he knew I wanted to place a bet, the only way he was gonna help me was if I accepted his wager. And as sure as Miss Mildred would complain about Muffy peeing in the front yard, Skeeter, the wagering man, didn’t make bets he knew he’d lose. I was between a rock and a hard place.
Stupid beer.
I scanned the room looking one last time for Neely Kate and spotted a clock by the bar. 8:35. I had to accept the fact that she wasn’t coming. I was in this alone.
I was so close…
Lifting my chin, I gave him my sternest glare. “I want a practice game first. Then I’ll decide if I want to accept your wager.”
With a wink, he stepped away from me. “It only seems fair. It’s still your turn. I’ll even make it easy for you. You don’t have to call which pocket the ball goes in before you shoot. That’s one of the rules.”
“So why are you breakin’ it?”
“Trying to increase my odds of gettin’ you to accept my wager.”
Not a chance. “Well, aren’t you the gentleman?”
He laughed loud and long. “Most definitely not.”
I turned my attention to the pool table, focusing on the balls spread across the green felt. It was shooting balls into holes. How hard could it be? I found a blue one close to a hole but other balls were between it and the white.
His voice lowered. “I’ll help you if you want.”
“I don’t need your help.”
He laughed again.
My hand began to tremble and I grabbed my beer bottle, drinking a gulp as I circled the pool table. Go home, Rose. Don’t do this. But I wasn’t in any real danger. There were other decent people playing pool. Skeeter couldn’t do anything harmful to me in public. I just wouldn’t agree to his wager and I’d be safe. Plus, I found a clear shot with the white ball and a green one.
Skeeter leaned his hip against the other side of the table. “So what do you want to bet on?”
Lining up my cue with the ball, I concentrated on the table. Maybe I wouldn’t need his wager after all. “I dunno. What can I bet on?”
“You don’t even know what you want to bet on? Then why do you want to place a bet at all?”
Unsure how to answer, I stalled and took my shot. The white ball hit the green one but the green one missed the hole. I looked up at him. “It’s kind of one of those bucket list things. But I was supposed to do it with my friend, Susan. I guess she stood me up.”
“I thought her name was Sasha.”
My breath stuck. “Oh, yeah…it is. Silly me. Susan’s her sister…Her twin sister.” I was proud of myself. That sounded convincing.
Skeeter
moved around the table toward the white ball and I scooted the opposite direction.
“So what an I bet on?”
He didn’t try to hide his amusement. “Pretty much anything. Sports. Horses. The Oscars.”
“Um, sports.”
Lining up his cue stick, he lifted his face to look at me. “Baseball?”
“Sure.”
He hit the ball and several balls split off, two sinking into pockets.
Thank goodness I didn’t make that wager. “So how would I do it?”
Moving around the side of the table, he shrugged. “You can do it online. Lots of people do these days.”
“What if I want to bet in person?”
He bent over the table and winked. “Then I guess you need me, don’t ya?”
“How does it work?”
“Well, first you have to figure out what team you want to bet on. Do you even know any baseball teams?”
I grabbed my beer bottle to stall, surprised that I’d already finished it. How many was that?
Skeeter waved with a finger toward the bar.
“Um, I know the Little Rock Travelers.”
He laughed and shot again, another ball going into the pocket. “They’re minor league, although you can bet on them too. But most people don’t. Most people bet on major league teams.”
A waitress brought over two beer bottles, handing one to me.
“Oh, no.” I waved my hands in front of me.
Skeeter motioned for her to put the bottle down.
“How do you know so much about this?” I perched in a chair, not an easy task given the fact I was a bit unsteady.
“Because, Jane…” He moved closer to me, making me sorry I’d sat down. He had me cornered. “If you want to place a bet, I’m who you need to talk to.”
“Oh.”
He picked up my beer and handed it to me. “Tell you what, I’m feeling generous tonight. How about I help you place a bet, without this pool wager?”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Okay.”
His grin shifted from amused to calculating. “It’s your shot. I missed.”
Did he? I thought he’d got another one in.
He grabbed my elbow and accompanied me to the table, handing me the pool stick I’d forgotten. “There’s a perfect shot for you right there.” He pointed with his finger, his hand still holding his beer. “See it?”
RG2 - Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons Page 20
