Thirty-Two and a Half Complications

by Denise Grover Swank

  I jerked my arm free and took several steps back. “Don’t you dare talk to him like that! You’re not talking to me in an official capacity and he’s my friend, so don’t you dare pull that deputy crap on him when all he’s doin’ is trying to protect me.”

  Anger filled his eyes. “Protect you? From me?” he shouted.

  “Joe! Look at you! You’re grabbing me and forcing me to talk to you! What do you think it looks like?”

  His anger faded and horror replaced it.

  “Joe, please.” My voice shook. “Just go.”

  “Rose. I’m sorry.” He reached for me and stopped. “You have to know that,” he pleaded.

  “I do, but you have to leave now.”

  Bruce Wayne stood next to me as we watched him walk back to his car, shaking his head like he could barely believe his own behavior. “Are you all right, Miss Rose?”

  I rubbed my arm, but not because I was physically hurt. “I’m fine, and you better start dropping the ‘Miss’ now that we’re partners.”

  “We’re not yet,” he said, watching Joe’s car drive away. “Not until we get that money back. We’re meeting Skeeter at four. He wants to talk to us before the evening business picks up.”

  “Four is good. Mason’s mom is coming tonight and I’m not sure how I’d explain leaving if we had to meet him in the evening.”

  “Let me do this on my own, Rose. You can trust me.”

  I turned to face him. “I do trust you, but you’re not going alone, just like I’m not. We either go together or not at all.”

  “United we stand, divided we fall,” Bruce Wayne said softly.

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Still, I couldn’t help wondering if Bruce Wayne was right. I was about to try making a deal with the devil.

  Chapter Twenty

  Bruce Wayne was sitting in his car when I pulled up to Eight Baller Billiards. He got out as I approached, my stomach threatening to expel my meager lunch.

  I looked up at the sign, wondering if this was so smart after all. The last time I had come here for information, I’d given Skeeter a fake name and had gotten in over my head, drinking and playing pool with him. When I’d had a vision and told him that he was going to lose a lot of money, he’d presumed I was an undercover cop and threatened my life. But if he read the papers or listened to Henryetta gossip at all, that confusion would be cleared up, and I wasn’t going in under false pretenses this time. I had information he might want. Hopefully, he could help me as well. Besides, I wasn’t the naïve girl I once was. But I wasn’t so sure I was this worldly either.

  “You look nice, Bruce Wayne,” I said as I approached him. He was dressed in a clean pair of jeans, a button-down shirt—noticeably unwrinkled—and a tan jacket. I’d never seen him look so put together. When he was on trial, he’d looked like someone sadistic had been playing dress-up with him and ill-fitting suits.

  “So do you, Miss—er—so do you, Rose.”

  I gave him a nervous smile, giving a quick glance to my brown skirt and cream ruffled shirt. I’d decided on brown heels and a cute leather jacket at the last minute. This time, I was going for professional, not slutty. “I wasn’t sure what a person should wear to a meeting like this.”

  A slow grin spread across his face. “You didn’t ask Neely Kate?”

  “Shoot, no. She would have insisted on coming. Two of us is enough, I think.”

  “So no one knows we’re here?” he asked in an ominous tone.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “I can call Deputy Simmons if you’d like.”

  He laughed. “Somehow, I think that’s a bad idea, but so is going in with no one knowin’ where we are.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m starting to have second thoughts about this whole thing.”

  “Like I told you, Rose, I’ll go alone.”

  “No,” I pulled out my phone and started a text to Neely Kate. “Together or not at all.”

  Bruce Wayne and I have an appointment with Skeeter Malcolm in two minutes.

  Her reply was almost instantaneous. What???

  I’ll explain later. If you don’t hear from me in half an hour, text me.

  I turned my phone to silent, stuffed it in my purse, and looked up, steeling my back. “Okay.”

  Bruce Wayne led the way and opened the glass door to the building, letting me through. The place was nearly empty, with only a couple of guys in the back playing pool and the bartender. Bruce Wayne pushed past me and walked up to the bar. “We have an appointment with Skeeter.”

  The bartender glanced up from wiping out a glass. He looked me up and down, then turned his gaze to Bruce Wayne. “He’s expecting you. Go on back to his office.”

  Bruce Wayne shot me a glance and I lifted my mouth into a tight smile. When he headed for the back room, I trailed behind. The guys playing pool looked up and one catcalled. Bruce Wayne tensed, but he kept right on moving, heading through a dark doorway and down a dimly lit hall, stopping in front of a door marked Private. He paused a moment, then knocked.

  In response to a gruff order to “Come in,” he swung the door open and walked into the room, blocking my view.

  “Bruce Wayne. I have to say this was a surprise,” Skeeter said. “Introduce me to your friend.”

  He moved to the side and I saw Skeeter sitting behind a large wooden desk. He was a good-looking man with an imposing presence. Dark hair framed his face and he’d shaved off the short beard he’d sported the last time we saw each other. He wore a long sleeved T-shirt that clung to his muscles and a hint of his many tattoos peeked out from under his collar. He stood when he saw me, a slow grin spreading across his face. “And who do we have here?”

  I moved closer, surprised Bruce Wayne hadn’t told him I was coming. “I’m Rose Gardner.”

  A sly grin lifted one side of his face. “Oh, I know who you are. I was just wondering if you’d tell me the truth this time.”

  My face blushed and my heart raced out of control. “I intend to be completely straightforward with you, Mr. Malcolm.”

  “Good.” He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat. I’m eager to hear what you have to be straightforward about.” As Bruce Wayne and I moved toward the chairs, he lowered into his. “And call me Skeeter. I’m nowhere near civilized enough to be a mister.” He laughed and leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair while watching me settle in my seat. “Let’s not mess around with all the polite nonsense of most business dealings. Why don’t we cut right to the chase?”

  “I agree.” I took a deep breath and shot a glance to Bruce Wayne before I continued. “I was in the Henryetta Bank last week when it was robbed. They stole my deposit bag, which held a great deal of cash. My insurance refuses to cover it and the bank’s insurance refuses to pay up because I didn’t actually make the deposit. I need that money.”

  His eyes narrowed in confusion. “So you need a loan?”

  “No. I want my money. I’m nearly positive the robbers still have it.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I think they robbed the bank and then Big Bill’s because they want to bid on Crocker’s business.”

  He laughed and leaned back on his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk. “Well, now. That’s an interesting theory. I’ve heard you’ve been like Henryetta’s very own Nancy Drew since Crocker killed your momma, though, so maybe you know something I don’t.”

  I stayed silent, unsure how to answer.

  “What makes you think your theory is correct?” He waved to Bruce Wayne. “I mean, if Bruce Wayne walked in here and told me that, I wouldn’t just hand him a bunch of money.” He turned back to me, his eyes turning cold. “So let’s cut the bullshit and be straight about what we each want. You want your money back and I want Crocker’s business. How can we make sure we both walk away from this happy?”

  I took a deep breath. “If I give you useful information, will you help me get my money back?”

  He chuckled. “Sweetheart, if you
can help me get to these guys before they outbid me, I’ll put you on my damn payroll and call it a bonus.”

  I gave him a nervous smile. “That’s not necessary. I just want my money.”

  “We’ll start there and leave the door open to future business dealings.”

  “Are you a man of your word, Skeeter Malcolm?”

  He laughed. “You are a piece of work, aren’t you?” He put his feet down and leaned on the desk with an elbow. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Rose Gardner, because if you’re gonna get your feet dirty, a tiny piece of fluff like you needs to be prepared: No one is a man of his word. Not Bruce Wayne, not that sheriff’s deputy you dated, and not that fancy pants assistant DA you’re living with who’s gunnin’ to bring me down, and last but certainly not least, not me.”

  I tried to stifle my gasp.

  “Don’t look so surprised. Hell yeah, I know all about you. Scooter calls me up and tells me Bruce Wayne wants to bring his new boss by to get my help, you can bet your ass I did some digging. How do I know this isn’t some big setup so your new boyfriend can get a feather in his cap?”

  My pulse pounded in my head. “I’d give you my word, but apparently that’s about as worthless as a three-dollar bill.”

  He laughed again. “I like you, Rose Gardner.”

  “Enough to work with me?”

  “First you have to prove you’re not workin’ with your boyfriend. And your word doesn’t count.”

  “Skeeter,” Bruce Wayne said, sounding nervous. “She ain’t. I know her and she went out of her way to hide the fact she was coming here from him.”

  “Why me?” he asked. “Why not just ask your boyfriend to get the money back? Or hell, I’m sure he’d give it to you.”

  “Even if the police or sheriff’s department find my money, it may be confiscated or held as evidence. And since I didn’t record serial numbers, I can’t even prove it’s mine. dpg - And I won’t ask Mason or anyone else to plain give me money because this business is mine.” I was getting angry, which wasn’t a smart thing to do with someone like Skeeter Malcolm, but I was tired of people expecting me to just rely on a man to solve my troubles. “Bruce Wayne and I have worked our hinies off to build this business up and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some low-life crooks take it from us. I want what’s mine and I’m offering you information that will serve you. It’s a win/win, Mr. Malcolm, and I’m not going to waste my time by trying to prove diddly squat to you. You may claim no one’s word is trustworthy, but I’m telling you that mine is. You either take me at my word or you tell me to walk out the door.”

  He stared at me expressionlessly for a long moment, and I worried I’d pushed him too far. I needed his help, but I also preferred to leave this place alive and in the same shape in which I’d arrived.

  Skeeter turned his gaze to Bruce Wayne. “Where’d you find her?” He sounded amused. “She’s something else.”

  Bruce Wayne swallowed and nodded his head, his face pale. “That she is.”

  “Fine,” Skeeter said, leaning back in his chair again. “I like you, Rose Gardner, so I’m going to take you at your word and work with you.” His face hardened. “But if I find out you double-crossed me, I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth and make you wish you were dead. Understood?”

  My breath stuck in my throat and I forced out a breathless, “Yes.”

  “Good.” He grinned again. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get down to business. Tell me what you know.”

  “I know there’s at least four of them.” The interest in his eyes suddenly had me worried. What would Skeeter actually do to these guys if he found them? Why hadn’t I thought about that part?

  “Go on.”

  I was already rushing headlong into this madness, and it was too late to turn back now. “The guy with the SpongeBob mask at the bank was named Mick. I saw the face of the second guy with the Batman mask, but I don’t know his name. I looked at a bunch of mug shots but never found him, so there’s a good chance he doesn’t have a record. Then there’s two more. The third guy has a brown beard and bushy eyebrows. He smokes. And the last guy—I know he’s one of four guys, but I’m not sure which. Or it could even be Samantha Jo Wheaton, but I doubt it.”

  Skeeter pursed his lips, looking impressed. “Anything else?”

  “One of them drives a gold Charger that belonged to Mr. Sullivan, the bank’s loan officer, and another had a black pickup with a long scratch down the side. I’m certain that Mr. Sullivan was part of all this, but he wanted out. Mick killed him because he was worried he was goin’ to talk. On the afternoon of the robbery, the black truck turned down the road where Mr. Sullivan’s body was later found. Mr. Sullivan hadn’t shown up to work or called in sick that day. The robbers have been meeting at the abandoned fertilizer plant and they’re pooling a bunch of money for something big on Friday. I’m guessing it’s the auction.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  I folded my hands in my lap. “I just do.”

  “You just do.” He shifted in his seat. “That’s not good enough, Rose. I need to know where you got your information.” He stood and walked around the end of the desk, sitting on the edge in front of me.

  I worried I was gonna throw up on his jeans. “I saw the Charger out the bank window and then I saw it again on Sunday. It turned into the fertilizer plant. The truck was there too and I’d seen it turn down the farmhouse road.”

  He leaned closer until his face was in front of mine, his minty breath blowing in my face. “And the rest? I know for a fact that those guys wore masks the entire time they were in the bank. I have my sources. And how do you know they’re pooling money or that they killed the loan officer to keep him from talking?”

  “I found Mr. Sullivan’s body.”

  “So you overheard these men discussing the matter when you saw them kill him?”

  I took a deep breath. “No, I just found his body.”

  He spread his hands wide. “So you found him with a note of explanation pinned to his shirt?”

  “No, of course not.” I swallowed, my nerves a tangled mess. “I just know things.”

  I let out a shriek when he grabbed my throat and gave it a slight squeeze. “I already get that you know them. What I’m interested in is the how of it.”

  I tried not to panic when my vision started to fade, not because he was cutting off my oxygen supply, but because I was about to pass out from fright. I had nothing to tell him. Why had I presumed he’d just take the information without me being able to back it up?

  “She has the sight,” Bruce Wayne said. “She can see things.”

  I would have gasped if I wasn’t in a choke-hold. How did Bruce Wayne know? I’d certainly never told him.

  Skeeter dropped his hold, and turned his attention to Bruce Wayne as I sank in my chair. “You’re shittin’ me, right?”

  “No. She can see things—the future, only she has no control over it. It just hits her and she blurts out what she saw. That’s how she knows. I suspect she had a vision of the robbers while she was at the bank and another one at church yesterday. She was near a group of four guys and Samantha Jo when she had it and I don’t think she knows which one it was.”

  My eyes widened in shock.

  Bruce Wayne gave me his puppy-dog eyes. “I ain’t stupid, Rose. I’ve known since we were working on the grounds of Reverend Jonah’s church. I just didn’t say anything because I know it embarrasses you. And I was at church yesterday. You just didn’t see me.”

  “Well, well, well. This is interesting.” Skeeter sat back on his desk, looking amused. “Who else knows about your gift?”

  “You believe Bruce Wayne?” I asked.

  He crossed his arms. “I’m reserving judgment, but I’m open to the possibility. My grandmother knew an oracle in Lafayette County and swore she was legit. I wouldn’t have believed it, but a few of her predictions came true.”

  My heart raced and I struggled to catch my breath
. This whole thing was spinning out of control. “She was my grandmother.”

  “You don’t say.” He grinned, but there was something sinister underneath the expression, like he was placating me. “Now tell me who else knows you have this ability.”

  “Just my sister and my boyfriend.” I kept Neely Kate out of it. I couldn’t put her in danger.

  “Both of your boyfriends?”

  Why did he want to know? “I only have one at a time, thank you very much. But yes. Both of them know.”

  “No one in town?”

  “Why do you care?” I asked, my senses returning. “What does it matter to you?”

  “I want to make sure you’re not telling other people things they might want or need to know.”

  I snorted. “I hate having visions. And if I tell someone about something I’ve seen, you can bet I wish I hadn’t.”

  He studied me with new appreciation. “That night you came to the pool hall this summer and told me I was gonna lose a lot of money? That was a vision, wasn’t it?”

  I nodded, still in shock that this man, of all people, now knew my secret.

  He grinned and propped his arms behind him on the desk, bracing himself. “Tell me if I’m gonna win the auction.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. It’s like what Bruce Wayne said; I don’t have control over what I see or when I see it.”

  He sat up, his eyes twinkling. “You said your boyfriend doesn’t know you’re here. How about I keep you here until you have one?”

  Oh, crappy doodles. “Then you better order out for pizza. It might be a while.”

  “So you don’t have any control at all?”

  What should I tell him? If he kept me here, Neely Kate would tell Mason, then Skeeter would think I’d set him up. He already knew this much, so I figured I might as well tell him the rest. “Sometimes I can force one, but I never know what I’m gonna see. And just because I see something, doesn’t mean it will definitely come true. Sometimes the future can be changed. This summer I saw myself dead several times and as you can see, that hasn’t happened yet.”