“Sometimes the bad guys are good, too.”
“Did you lose them?” She stood up and motioned for me to follow her into the house.
“I hope so.”
“Take your bag upstairs. Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
My room had not changed since the day I left for college. My mother kept everything intact, as if one day her little daughter of seventeen would come walking back into the house and life would go on as it had for the years before I left. Not that it was any picnic from the time my father was killed. Life changed. Death forces the survivors to adapt to new circumstances. Rachel and I had a hard time adapting to life without Bill Evans. We became benevolent adversaries.
I sat on the bed and allowed some old memories to come floating back. It was always a pleasant sort of activity to do in my room. Pleasant until something would cause that painful reenactment of the day my daddy was gunned down in the driveway. The shotgun blasts would always startle me back into the present time. Rude awakenings.
“Are you coming?” the familiar voice projected up the stairs into my ears.
“Sorry. Didn’t hear you call the first time.”
“You’re too young to be getting deaf.”
“Distracted, mother. Not deaf.”
“You were always easily distracted.”
“Character flaw.”
“Hope you don’t mind a light fare for a hot August supper. Tuna fish salad, cheese, crackers, and some sweet pickles. You want tea or water?”
“Tea will be fine.”
“So, have you finally come to your senses and gotten rid of those dogs?”
“No, mother. They’re still freeloading off of me.”
“You got that right. Freeloading. Dogs are a nuisance. Cats, too.”
“I’m sure the animal world appreciates the fact that you never bothered to take care of any of their own.”
“Watch your mouth. I had pets. I had a dog once. Good dog.”
She sat down. She prayed and then started eating. I was sure that the Deity was obliged at her offering.
“What was his name?” I said.
“Who?”
“The dog.”
“Oh, I don’t remember. Long time ago. Mike, I think. Yes, it was Mike. And it was a she-dog. Called her Mike because I thought that sounded tough. Female named Mike.”
“The other dogs didn’t make fun of her?”
My mother never looked up. She seldom appreciated my humor. She had little humor before Daddy died. After his removal from our lives, she was completely humorless.
“Why did you want a female dog with a tough sounding name?” I try to continue our line of talk.
“I was a tom-boy. Didn’t think some sissy name like Fluffy would do. Your grandfather raised us to be tough. He wanted all boys and got mostly girls. I think he blamed our mother.”
“Never knew that.”
“Lots you don’t know.”
I smiled to myself. I hated to hear someone else say it, but it was definitely true. Maybe that was why I liked being an investigator. Always trying to raise my level of ignorance.
“Catch any of our local news in Norfolk?” she said to me after some silence.
“Not much from Clancyville gets that far east.”
“This would.”
“What?”
“Our preacher jumped off the deep end.”
“Of what?”
“Life. Started wearing a gun around town. Dressed up like a regular cowboy. Hat. Vest. Boots and spurs. Strapped on a .45 Colt. I thought he looked good. Scared some folks.”
“Well, it is odd. But I wouldn’t call him crazy.”
“He was. Still is, I guess. Called out the mayor into the street. Noon. Wanted a showdown. Mayor had to fire someone and Crazy Tom Barryton wanted to settle it in Old West fashion. Quickest draw. Then the mayor went out with a deputy and tried to talk Tom out of the foolishness. Tom never threatened him, just kept telling him to draw his gun.”
“And?”
“Mayor didn’t have a gun.”
“Well, I figured that. So what happened?”
“Deputy Jones got nervous and drew his gun and shot Tom in the shoulder. Tom was okay, but they shipped him off to Dan River for observations. Folks say now that the preacher had been under a lot of stress. Some called it mid-life crisis. I think he snapped. Crazy Tom Barryton. Another great minister to add to our collection.”
“Thought you stopped going to church years ago.”
“Now and then. I try to keep the town gossips from having too much to talk about.”
16
My cell phone rang around 10:30 that first night back in Clancyville. Mother had long since retired for the night.
“Did I interrupt something romantic?” Rogers said.
“In Clancyville?”
“Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to and where you were.”
“You’re a real confidence booster. What’s up?”
“Some unsightly men came around today looking for you.”
“Unsightly?”
“Okay, casual looking thugs. Heavy set and wiry.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“One was heavy and the other wiry.”
“Oh.”
“Follow me on this Dearie. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m listening.”
“They sort of forced their way into the apartment. One of them got close enough to the monitor camera for me to take a really fine photo of him. The other stayed by the door out of my line of sight.”
“They scare Margie?”
“You’re kidding, right? Margie would back down King Kong if he looked in the window. She’s fearless. Must have good genes or something. They left when they couldn’t get the computer to work and they finally decided that you were not here.”
“Did she tell them anything?”
“Only that you were out. Nothing about where or when you’d be back.”
“And?”
“I checked the photo against the police files here in Norfolk and … bingo, one Randall Smokey Williams came up. Heavy set. He was the muscle bozo who took a look at my monitor. Mr. Wiry was the shy one by the door.
“So, who is one Randall Smokey Williams?”
“Has a full rap sheet … lots of B&E’s, plenty of suspicions of this and that, some assault charges, served a little time in the early nineties … nothing too serious. Seventeen months, some of it suspended. He’s a bouncer type. Likes to push people around.”
“So who tells him to push people around?”
“Ah ha, that’s the juicy part of this report. Perhaps even the meat of it. The files say that he works for Joey Malone.”
“Who happens to reside in Detroit perchance?”
“Craven Malone’s youngest.”
“I guess I did rattle some cages. Anything else?”
“I saved the best, perhaps, for last.”
“Icing.”
“Maybe. Informative, to say the least. It seems that your new BFF Roosevelt Washington’s last job was connected with Lusty.”
“Details?”
“Apparently Joey Malone hired him to do some work of some sort.”
“What kind of work could Rosey do for a magazine?”
“My question exactly. Maybe he killed off some competition.”
“Keep checking.”
“You bet. How’s Mama?”
“Sweet as ever.”
The one thing I failed to do in creating the artificial intelligence of Rogers was to give her the ability to laugh or cry. The latter I could do without, but the former would be nice when I make a joke.
I pocketed my cell phone.
“What’s sweet as ever?” Mama said from the doorway of my room.
“Eavesdropping?”
“My house. You have a caller.”
“A caller?”
“A tall black man is downstairs at the front door wants to see you. He said it was urgent.
Since I don’t know any tall black men, I made him wait outside.”
17
“There’s a contract out on you,” Rosey said. He was seated in one of the rockers on the front porch. I figured we’d have more privacy outside than inside. My mother would be shocked beyond shame if we were upstairs in my room with the door closed.
“And you know this how?”
“They hired me to kill you.”
He said it so nonchalantly that I had to pause as if to be sure he had not said something like, “Let’s go over to Dan River and have lunch.” There was absolutely no change in his voice when he delivered the line.
“How did you know I would be here?”
“I’m good at what I do, Clancy. Maybe you’ll believe me someday.”
I was beginning to believe that he lived inside my brain and knew my next move.
“Who hired you?”
“Can’t answer that.”
“You can’t tell me who hired you, but you can come here to tell me that you have been hired to kill me. That makes perfect sense.”
“Confidentiality.”
“But they found me because of you. I came into this whole mess because of your stupid clue! I think you set me up.”
“Then why am I here telling you this?”
“I don’t know.”
The silence of the dark, summer night surrounded us. The katydids were making their usual racket. Some dogs were barking off somewhere in the distance. Nothing was moving on the street except for the bugs attracted by the streetlight half a block from where we were sitting. It was a perfect August evening in rural Virginia except for the revelation about Rosey being hired to kill me. Perfect and odd.
“So what are you going to do?” I said finally.
“I’m not going to kill you.”
“That’s a relief,” I tried to allow my sarcasm to drip slightly on the moment.
“Old friends. Stronger than money.”
“By the way, how much are they paying you to get rid of me?”
“Twenty.”
“Going rate?”
“No. Usually falls around ten. You’re worth more.”
“I’m honored. At least they raised the ante on me. But all honor aside, this does not bode well for you at all.”
“Me and thee. Limits my business opportunities considerably.”
“Hurts your reputation.”
“That, too.”
“Let me see if I understand the underworld of crime and corruption. If you are given the contract to kill me, but you choose not to do it, then not only are you out twenty thousand, but they are likely to put a contract out on you.”
“Likely.”
“Did they pay you up front?”
“No. Usually I go half up front and the other half when it’s done.”
“This time?”
“All upon delivery of the body. They really want you out of the picture. They’ve read your press releases.”
“So they set the agenda, required proof, and you agreed to do it?”
“I had no choice. If I had refused, then they would have been suspicious. They already know I know you. If I said no, they would have killed me and then sent someone else to kill you.”
“Cornered.”
“Like a rat.”
“So how much time do you have to do something?”
“Sooner rather than later.”
“Definitive. Is that calendar time?”
“They know I’m good, so they expect results within a window of two weeks, tops.”
“And the clock started ticking when?”
“This morning.”
“You think they followed you here?”
“They tried but I lost them in Winchester. The Jag is out of the shop and no one keeps up with the Jag.”
“What’s the plan?” I said.
“That’s why I am here.”
“To tell me the plan?”
“No. To put our minds together and come up with a plan.”
18
We talked until well after midnight. Some plans are harder to continue than others. We decided upon what not to do more than what to do before we bedded down for the night. Mama put Rosey in the downstairs guest bedroom. I didn’t sleep much.
Mama fixed us a country breakfast the next morning. Rosey ate like a starved convict. I nibbled at the corners, mainly sticking with a biscuit and grape jelly.
“Trouble?” Mama said after she had eaten a few bites of egg.
“What makes you ask that?” I answered.
“He shows up after ten o’clock. You two talk until way past midnight. And you look like you’ve been wrestling with the Devil. I ain’t stupid. Something is up and I figure that you’re involved in it up to your eyelids. So what kind of trouble is it?”
I told her the gist without giving too many specific details. I mentioned no names, just what was happening. Mainly I told her that there was a contract on me.
“Should have let it alone. That was a long time ago, Clancy.”
“Need to know.”
“Why?”
“Hard to say. I owe it to my daddy, I guess.”
“You don’t owe him anything. He owes us.”
I looked at her without saying anything. Tension was mounting. I didn’t need this now. Mama always had issues and she was never shy about releasing them in a conversation.
“Delicious breakfast, Mrs. Evans,” Rosey interjected.
“Thank you. Help yourself. There are plenty of biscuits. You want some more grits?"
“No, thank you. I have eaten plenty. Don’t usually eat like this. Just wanted you to know how much I appreciate it.” He could sound very pleasant when he wanted to.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you around here, R.D.” Mama was the only one who ever called him what he liked to be called. His mother called him Boy most of the time. His Uncle Joe called him Roosevelt. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you last night. You’ve changed quite a bit.”
He smiled and nodded at her. No response.
“So what are you two going to do? You can stay here as long as you need.”
It was a civil gesture from my mother.
“They would find us. Too easy to track me through you,” I said to her.
“They’ll come here anyway. Looking for you. What do I tell them?”
“You won’t be here. You can’t stay here. They’ll ask questions and then kill you. They want me badly.”
Her expression never altered. She took her plate and silverware to the sink and started washing them.
“You two want more coffee?”
“No, thank you,” I said.
“Yes, please,” Rosey said.
She stopped washing and poured him another cup of coffee. She sat down and looked directly at me. The coffee pot was sitting on the table in front of her now.
“I have to hide?” she said.
“It would be best. I think you would be safe with Aunt Mildred. They know nothing of her and it would be harder to find you. You’d be safe there for a while.”
“Clancy, I don’t like it,” Mama said more to herself than to me.
Aunt Mildred lived some ten miles outside of Clancyville in rural Pitt County. She moved away from the town after her husband died. She had a large farm in the Renan section of the county.
“She home now?” I asked.
“Don’t know. I’ll call.” She put the coffee pot back on the stand and left the room.
“We hide with Aunt Mildred, too?” Rosey said.
“Not in this lifetime. Too risky for them.”
“Yeah. So where do we hide?”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“No. Just testing you. I am a trained fighter. I figure you’re a fighter too.”
“What do you think they expect us to do?”
“Run. They’re tough guys. Strong-arm types. They don’t understand people who are not afraid of them.”
“Oh, I’m afraid
of them. But I won’t le them push me around,” I said.
“Same difference. Fear sometimes be a good thing.”
“You afraid?”
“No,” Rosey said as he smiled broadly. Then he added quickly, “I be lying.”
19
Mama drove to Aunt Mildred’s place in the country. We followed in the Jaguar. It was a good ten miles from town, but took twenty-five minutes to get there. Lots of back roads. I had convinced Mama to lie to her neighbors about her whereabouts. Mrs. Virginia Lee Edwards was the nosey next-door neighbor who stayed up on the comings and goings of everyone in town. In fact, she stayed current on all events of the town. Telling her was like taking out a full-page ad in The Clarion Weekly. She only had to tell Virginia Lee. Virginia Lee would make sure that everyone else in Clancyville knew that Mama had gone on a vacation to Europe. No return date was given.
“First time on a dirt road for the Jag,” he said.
“You’re kiddin’?”
“We be city people.”
“Air is better out here.”
“Air, yes. Dirt, no. I have a Jeep for stuff like this.”
“Should have planned better.”
“Yeah. So, we leave Mama Evans with Aunt Mildred. Then what?”
“What’s wrong with your brain? Why do I have to make all the decisions?”
“Out here, you’re in charge. We make it to the city, then I be in charge.”
“So you trust me?”
“Until we differ. You decide something I don’t like, I’ll speak.”
“I’m sure.”
“I’m curious.”
“About what?”
“That small wooden box you put in the trunk.”
“Mama thought I’d need it.”
“Needles and thread?”
“My daddy’s handgun. Smith & Wesson 27.”
“The classic N-frame revolver. Sweet gun.”
“Daddy thought so, but he never used it much. Might see some action now.”
“Your gun in Norfolk?”
“Yessir. All this flying has forced me to use other folk’s weapons.”
“What do you like?”
“My handgun is the Smith & Wesson 360. The .38 edition. Fits nicely under the arm or sometimes in the small of my back. Depends on my wardrobe.”
One Lost Soul More: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 1) Page 7
