Thirty-Two and a Half Complications

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Thank you, Neely Kate.”

  She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Just be careful, okay? And call me when you’re done so I know that you’re safe.”

  “I will.”

  The clock was ticking, so I ran inside and quickly changed, pleased with what I saw in the mirror. The reflection showed a woman in a figure-hugging black dress, a V cutting low in the front to reveal what little cleavage she had. I’d found a handful of bobby pins at the bottom of my purse, so I put my hair up into a French roll that would conceal its length and color. I couldn’t see the lower half of me, but the hat alone would mask my identity. No one I knew would recognize me if they saw me dressed this way.

  Skeeter banged on the door. “Come on! Let’s go!”

  I swung the door open and his mouth parted in surprise before he quickly recovered and offered me his arm, a grin spreading across his face. “This arrangement keeps getting better and better. I’m beginning to rethink that marriage proposal, but I value the family jewels too much to take the risk.” He chuckled. “And after watching you this afternoon, Rose Gardner, I’m more than sure you’d be a jewel thief.”

  I narrowed my eyes, not that he could probably see through the veil. “If I help you and you renege on me, Skeeter Malcolm, you’ll find out how true that statement is.”

  He and his men burst into laughter as we headed out the back door. Too bad for him, I hadn’t meant it as a joke.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I mused about the absurdity of it all as I rode in the back of a black sedan on the way to the warehouse. Previously mousy, socially inept Rose Anne Gardner was dressed as a wanton woman and riding in the back of a car with Henryetta’s current criminal mastermind. All while her assistant district attorney boyfriend waited for her to come home and her chief deputy sheriff ex-boyfriend searched for reasons to tie her to a criminal investigation.

  This was straight out of a made-for-TV movie.

  Skeeter sat next to me while Jed—the guy who’d told me about the Piggly Wiggly robbery—drove and the other guy, Merv, rode shotgun. Bruce Wayne was following us in his car after Skeeter had snarled that there wasn’t room for him in the back. I didn’t understand Skeeter’s insistence until his hand landed on my knee when we were two minutes out of the parking lot.

  I shoved his paw aside. “Hands off, Skeeter.”

  “Just admiring what I’ve claimed,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

  “You may have claimed my gift, not that it’s yours to claim in the first place, but you most definitely cannot claim me. So keep your hands to yourself or the whole deal’s off, chips fall where they may.”

  “You have to act like my girlfriend inside.”

  “I will do no such thing,” I said firmly.

  “Rose,” he groaned. “If I bring you in there—”

  “For all they know, I’m an investor you’ve brought with you.”

  “That makes me look weak.” His voice was harsh.

  “It will make you look strong. Like your reach stretches outside of this godforsaken town.”

  “Huh,” he said, thinking it over. “That’s actually a good idea.”

  “So it’s agreed. Hands off. Everyone knows you like the ladies. The fact that you’re not touching me will catch them off guard, which will in turn throw them off their game.” I had no idea if they would or not, but it sounded good and Skeeter looked impressed.

  We drove south of town, toward Pickle Junction. They’d been sympathetic to Crocker in this area, so geographically, it made sense. But it also meant I was on Joe’s turf, not the Henryetta PD’s. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen.

  Jed stopped the car in front of a large barn, like he was dropping us off at the red carpet at the Academy Awards. Skeeter opened his door and slid out, holding his hand out to me and pretending to be a gentleman. I nearly snorted, but I took his hand anyway, hoping my tight dress wouldn’t slide up and flash my underwear to the world. Granted they were black lace and sexy, but those were for Mason’s eyes only. Not the riff-raff of Fenton County.

  When I was out, Skeeter shut the door and Jed drove off to park with the other twenty-some odd cars that were parked behind the barn, blocked from view of the road. Skeeter lifted his bent arm and bowed his head with a playful grin. “Shall we?”

  Releasing a sigh, I let him escort me to the entrance. The barn’s double doors were open, but the entrance was sectioned off with folding screens that blocked the view inside. A table with two men sat to the right, just inside the doors. One of the men had a metal box in front to him and the other had a leather ledger; together, they were signing people in and collecting money. Two more guys were patting down the entrants before they were allowed inside. Several men and a few women were in line ahead of us.

  “You have to pay up front?” I whispered in surprise. “How do you know how much to pay?”

  “It’s a deposit. Five thousand dollars to show you’re an actual contender, plus a thousand-dollar fee to take part. And the winner is expected to pay up the balance once they’ve won.”

  “What happens if you win and don’t have the money with you?”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “You don’t want to know.”

  I swallowed, trying to stave off another fit of nausea. “What’s to keep someone from stealing the money?”

  “Them.” He gestured to two men who were standing in the shadows behind the table, both carrying machine guns.

  “Oh.”

  He chuckled and leaned close to my ear. “You’re very curious. I think I’ve underestimated you again.”

  “Again?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, the guy with the ledger waved to Skeeter, and we bypassed the ten people in front of us and approached the table. Skeeter handed them a wad of hundred-dollar bills. They counted them and placed them in the metal box, then wrote Skeeter’s name in the ledger. The guy looked up at me. “And your guest’s name?”

  “That’s none of your damn business.” Skeeter’s eyes narrowed and the burly man at the table actually looked intimidated.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Malcolm, but they’re Bull’s orders. To make sure no informants show up. Every person who enters has to have someone vouch for them.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid enough to bring in someone who would set us up?” His voice rose and his eyes widened. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”

  “No, sir. But I still need a name.”

  Skeeter looked like he was about to reach over and snap the man’s neck. Literally, not figuratively.

  The guy hunched over his ledger. “How about Lady in Black?”

  Skeeter’s back straightened. “Good. And I have three more guests coming.”

  “Each person who’s bidding is allowed only three guests, Mr. Malcolm. No exceptions,” he said as he handed Skeeter an auction paddle.

  Skeeter seemed less concerned with this rule. “Fine. Jed and Merv.” He turned to me. “Your man will have to wait outside.”

  I was thankful he didn’t name Bruce Wayne, and the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. Bruce Wayne was walking across the parking lot toward us, although I didn’t see his car anywhere. Where had he parked? I pulled out my phone and texted him.

  You’re waiting outside.

  He looked at his phone and then up at me, shaking his head then texting: Together or nothing

  He was throwing my words back at me.

  We’re still together, but it’s better if you don’t come in… People might link you to me and Skeeter. And they’re patting people down and making them leave their weapons outside. If there’s trouble it will be outside.

  Besides, we don’t have a choice, I added for good measure.

  He watched me for several seconds.

  Okay, he finally wrote.

  One of the men started to pat Skeeter down and the other told me to turn around.

  Skeeter pointed his finger at the guard next to me. “If you touch her in any w
ay that would be considered inappropriate, I will personally cut off your fingers.”

  The man gulped. “Yes, sir.”

  I stared at Skeeter, my jaw dropping in shock. What was that all about?

  It would have been easy for me to creatively smuggle in a weapon considering the quick appraisal I was given. The guy barely touched me before declaring that I was good to go.

  Whether I wanted to be here or not, what I saw fascinated me. I’d mistaken it for a warehouse in my vision, but I realized now it was because the space was larger than a typical barn. There were more people here than I’d expected, but assuming everyone had brought their plus-threes, I estimated there were only about ten bidders. Skeeter moved to the back of the crowd, making it easier for me to see everyone.

  “What’s your number?” I asked, wondering how I could have been so stupid.

  Skeeter held up his paddle. “Nine.”

  “I saw the number of the guy who outbid you. His number was fourteen. It may have changed from my vision—it happens—but everything else is as I remember it.”

  Skeeter snapped his fingers. “Merv, go find out who logged in as number fourteen and keep an eye out for that paddle.”

  Merv walked off and Jed stood next to us, his arms at his sides.

  I shifted my weight and kept my eyes on the crowd. “I thought this was supposed to go down tomorrow.”

  “Let’s just say the wrong ears were perking up,” Skeeter said. “It was safer this way.”

  “You don’t think I had anything to do with that, do you?”

  He turned his gaze to the front of the room, his face expressionless. “You wouldn’t be here if I thought you did. And you sure as hell wouldn’t be at home cookin’ that turkey you’re so set on gettin’ back to.”

  What the hell had I gotten myself involved in?

  “Why did you threaten that guy who patted me down?” Skeeter had answered all my other questions and curiosity was getting the best of me.

  He turned to face me and lifted his eyebrows. “Your suggestion was genius. Look at all these idiots with their bimbos. They’re a dime a dozen. But you’re dressed sexy as hell yet still classy and not only are you acting like the freaking Queen of England, but I’m treating you that way and making sure everyone else does too. They’re dying to know who you are and it makes me look important. And it’s all about appearances, R—” He grinned. “You need a name I can use in public.”

  I blinked, not that he could see me very well. “That’s not necessary, seeing as how this is a one-time venture.”

  He grinned. “Lady in Black. Lady for short.”

  “That’s the stupidest name on the planet.”

  “You got a better one?”

  “No.” I looked around, getting impatient. “When does this thing start and how long will it last? I’ve got a—”

  “I know, you’ve got a dinner to get back to. But think bigger than your family dinner,” he leaned close and whispered in my ear. “This here’s poetic justice when you think about it. You ended the Crocker empire and you’re here to see it reborn from the ashes.”

  I hadn’t considered it that way, but I had to admit he was right.

  Merv sauntered back, wearing a scowl, which I took to mean that he had bad news. “No dice, Skeeter. They say the list is confidential. They have a new page for each bidder so I couldn’t even look over his shoulder.”

  Skeeter frowned as he surveyed the room. “Merv, take Lady here around the room to seek the guys out.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Who?”

  Skeeter shook his head. “This is Lady. That, and only that, is how you will address her. Got it?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  I didn’t wait for Merv. My only purpose here was to find the robbers and point them out to Skeeter. He would have to handle the rest. At this point, I’d be happy to swing by the pool hall later tonight to collect my money. My first problem popped up when I didn’t see any of them. My next problem occurred when my phone vibrated in my hand with a call. I glanced at the screen and cringed. Mason. He would expect me to answer it if I was at Neely Kate’s. If I didn’t, he’d start to get worried.

  I had to move this show along.

  I made another pass through the crowd and saw two of the guys from church—Lars Jenkins and Eric Davidson. Lars had a paddle with the number six on it and Eric was hanging back at the edge of the crowd, looking like he wanted to blend in with the shadows.

  I made a beeline to Skeeter, Merv trailing behind me like an abandoned puppy.

  I turned to face Skeeter and leaned in toward his ear. “Lars Jenkins is here. When I had my vision at church, he was one of the four men near me. He fits the profile and he’s pretty rough. I wouldn’t put it past him to kill someone to get what he wants.” I took a breath. “Lars had a paddle, but the number on it is six, not fourteen. And he wasn’t the bidder in my vision.”

  “And the other guy?”

  “Eric Davidson. He works at the Burger Shack. He’s hanging at the edge of the crowd. He doesn’t even have a paddle.”

  “And the guy who was bidding in your vision?”

  “He was the guy from the grocery store. The one who wore the Batman mask in my vision. I don’t see him here. But it could have changed. I’m sure there are four of them. Maybe Lars is going to do the bidding instead.”

  His face hardened and he held out his hand to me. “Make yourself have another vision.”

  “Here? Now?”

  “I need to know what I’m facing and your job is to help me do it.”

  I shook my head and grumbled. “This is a terrible idea. You know I’m going to blurt out what I see. And there’s no guarantee I’ll even see anything related to the auction. I could see you sittin’ on the toilet for your morning constitutional.”

  “Do it.”

  Sighing, I reached for his hand and closed my eyes. I was anxious and nothing happened for nearly half a minute.

  “What’s takin’ so long? They’re about to start.”

  “You are making me nervous,” I hissed. “Apparently, I have to be relaxed to force one.”

  “Then calm down.”

  “You calm down. You’re making it worse.”

  I could see Jed over Skeeter’s shoulder, his eyes widened in shock. I supposed not many people spoke to Skeeter that way and got away with it. “Okay, I’m going to try again, but don’t tense up.”

  “How the hell am I not supposed to tense up when there’s a good chance someone is still gonna try to kill me?”

  “Skeeter,” I hissed. “Jed’s got your back, quite literally. Now let me do this.”

  He took a deep breath, then looked at my veil.

  I closed my eyes, forcing myself to settle down. The vision appeared within seconds, playing out identically to the first two.

  “Someone’s gonna kill you while you’re bidding.”

  He jerked his hand from mine. “Again?” He shook his shoulders. “Son of a bitch!”

  Several people turned around to stare at us.

  “Skeeter,” I said in a low voice. “Maybe you should leave and let Jed or Merv bid for you.”

  He shook his head, his face red with anger. “That’s not how this works. I want the power. I have to bid. I told you that it’s all about appearances.”

  “And you’re making a fine impression throwing a fit like a five-year-old.”

  His eyes narrowed and I knew I’d gone too far. But he forced his shoulders down and took a deep breath. “You’re right.”

  Jed’s mouth dropped open like a trap door.

  The auctioneer climbed a small stage and banged a gavel on the podium. “Attention. We’re about to start the bidding. The rules are simple. We accept bids until there’s a winner. The winner will come immediately to the stage and pay with cash. If he doesn’t have enough, he forfeits and the second-highest bidder will be the winner.” He cleared his throat. “The winner procures all territorial rights previously belonging to Daniel Cr
ocker along with his land and greenhouse. This does not include Weston’s Garage. Are there any questions?”

  No one spoke, but the room filled with nervous tension.

  “If there are no questions, we’ll let the bidding begin.”

  Skeeter leaned in close to me. “Do you see him yet?”

  My stomach twisted with anxiety. “No.” I glanced at my phone to check the time and saw Bruce Wayne had sent me a text.

  Merrill, the PW asst manager is hanging around outside.

  I gasped and Skeeter turned toward me. “What?”

  Bids were being made, but they were still low, lingering around five thousand dollars.

  “Bruce Wayne says the Piggly Wiggly assistant manager is hanging around outside.”

  Skeeter flicked his finger to Merv. “Take care of it.”

  I grabbed Skeeter’s arm. “What’s he going to do?”

  Skeeter rolled his eyes. “Take care of it.”

  I couldn’t shake the thought of what Merv might be doing to take care of it. What if I was wrong? “I’m not giving you another piece of information unless you promise me you won’t kill any of the men I tell you about.” I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.

  “It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Lady. And if you step into this ring, you have to accept that. Besides, I already told you that you can’t trust my word.”

  I moved close enough to him so that he could see my face. “Skeeter Malcolm, I won’t help you with another blessed thing unless you promise me right now that you won’t kill these men. And if you don’t hold true to your word, I’ll find your great-grandmother, Idabelle, and tell her you lied to me.”

  His mouth gaped. “Grandma Idabelle?”

  “You may be a malcontent, but I hear your great-grandmother has quite the temper, so I bet she can still cut a switch to tan your hide. Didn’t she start the family business with moonshine during Prohibition, back when all business deals were made with handshakes?” I knew the first part was true. I was counting on the second.

  His face darkened. “Times have changed.”