Checkered Thief (A Laurel London Mystery Book 3)

by Kappes, Tonya

  “I’ve been a time or two.” He rubbed his chin. “Maybe I’ll charter a boat and go while I’m here.”

  “Charter?” I choked and turned left on Grove Street before taking the first right on Oak Street. “The only way you’re going to charter a boat would be to take Charlie Haskel a fifth of whiskey or a quart of moonshine.”

  Charlie was the friendly town drinker. He spent his days on the river in his little silver metal boat.

  “What do you do in this small town when there’s downtime?” he asked.

  “Well,” I pointed out the window to Lucky Strikes Bowling Lanes. “We bowl. But not unless it’s league night. Which happens to be tomorrow night. And Jax Jackson bowls, so maybe he can take you.”

  I left out the part about Jax and I being teammates for the team Here For the Beer. Gilbert Pinksey didn’t seem a bit interested in anything I had to say outside of Jax.

  “Hmm.” Gilbert leaned back. He put his elbow on the windowsill and drummed his fingers in an annoying way. Thankfully, I was parking the car in the open parking space in front of The Cracked Egg. “It seems like Jax found his niche in this little town.”

  “Hot damn!” I hollered and threw the gearshift in park. “Front row spots are rare at lunch. Niche? What niche?” I asked.

  Gilbert jumped out, briefcase in a tight grip, ignoring my question. He was inside The Cracked Egg before I could take the keys out of the ignition.

  “Come on.” I opened the glove box. My .22 caliber Colt Defender handgun fell out along with the pink crystal-encrusted cat leash. I reached down and quickly grabbed the gun and I looked around to make sure no one was looking in the car. I put it back in the glove box and slammed it shut. “Can’t be flinging that baby around all day.”

  I snapped the leash on Henrietta and picked her up. I grabbed my hobo bag and we headed toward the diner.

  “Mornin’.” Charlie Haskell stood outside of The Cracked Egg with a toothpick stuck between his lips. His skin was tan from being outside all the time. He wore a little black knit cap, barely covering the top of his head. His nose was wide, his smile was gummy, and his eyes squinted when he laughed. “It’s gonna be hotter than a two-dollar pistol out here today.”

  “It sure is,” I said, stopping to let Charlie pet Henrietta.

  “Who’s the man who thinks he’s shittin’ in high cotton?” Charlie referred to Gilbert.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. I wasn’t going to say much about Gilbert because I didn’t know his business and it wasn’t my story to tell. “Dang,” I wiped my brow. “I hope this weather breaks.”

  The humidity had gone up since we hit the county line. A little bead of sweat gathered on my lip. I used the back of my hand to wipe it away.

  “You doing all right, Charlie?” I asked. He was busy looking between the legs of the painted mural of the dancing egg on The Cracked Egg’s front window.

  “Yeah. Mrs. Picerilli gave me some day old hot dogs to use as bait.” He grinned. He leaned in. I held my breath. Charlie smelled like the last rose of summer. “Don’t tell her, but I ate one for myself.” He winked, did a little skip and was on his way.

  I let a deep sigh to catch my breath and headed on in the diner. The smell of bacon was welcomed.

  “Who’s Mr. Fancypants?” Gia Picerilli asked after I moseyed up to the counter to my spot.

  She stuck a pen in her black curly hair. Her dark features let you know she was Italian through and through.

  Gia was my long-time best friend and her family owned the greasy spoon diner which had the best food within one hundred miles. If you asked her, she’d say it was the best damn food in all of America. I hadn’t been around all of America, so I couldn’t say for sure, but it was good food.

  Gia shifted, one hand on her hip, the other had a coffee pot dangling from it. She wore the not-so-flattering black, one-piece, waitress skirt jumper that zipped up the back. The Cracked Egg mascot was embroidered on the front—compliments of Walnut Grove’s only seamstress, Norma Allen. It was a big egg with two skinny legs in heels with a small crack on the top along with two big yellow eyes.

  “He’s in town to see Jax.” After I put Henrietta in the cage Gia provided for me at the end of the counter, I sat at the bar on my regular stool. I did a few spins for old time’s sake and looked down at the menu like I didn’t know I was already getting my favorite sandwich.

  The answer must’ve satisfied Gia because after she put a cup of coffee in front of me, she made her way down the bar filling the drinks of the old timers, the regulars and Gilbert Pinskey.

  I watched Gia flip Gilbert’s coffee cup, lean her hip against the counter, and slowly fill his cup. Her lips were flapping. She slid a piece of pie his way. I smiled when Gilbert smiled. Gia had a way of getting people to talk over food. Free food. Especially a piece of The Cracked Egg’s chess pie.

  They talked for a few minutes. Gia nodded toward Louie Pelfrey who was delivering The Cracked Egg’s Krispy Kreme order and the reason why Louie wasn’t at The Windmill Hotel. Most people in Walnut Grove had to have two jobs to make ends meet.

  The Great Recession had hit these parts hard. The Chamber of Commerce was meeting tonight about how the economy wasn’t in the best shape around here and how the new casino boat being built on the river by Porty Morty’s was our only hope of survival.

  Since I was now a legitimate business owner with Drive Me, I was able to attend and give my two cents. Not that I had two cents to give, but I was good at listening and figuring out how to get out of sticky situations. Granted most of those situations had been illegal, but I have proven my past was in the past. I was good at keeping the past buried. Especially my own.

  I pulled a notepad and pen out of my hobo bag. There were better things to do other than be nosy about Gilbert, like find out who my family really was.

  As a baby, I was dropped off at the orphanage in Walnut Grove and raised by Trixie Turner. While I can say it really messed me up in the love department and my trust issues had played a part in my sunny disposition, overall I turned out all right. A little rough around the edges, but that gave me my I don’t give a shit attitude. Especially when it came to men.

  Regardless, The Gorilla, the affectionate name the mob had given my grandfather, had put me in the orphanage to keep me safe. He believed I would be safe tucked away in the small town in Kentucky.

  Anyway, I was on a mission to find out all I could about my family history. In between clients, I spent a lot of time at the library or on the Internet looking for any clues I could. I even had Donna Marple, the town librarian, doing some research.

  “Works for the FBI. Catching up on old times,” Gia whispered after she made her way back over to me. She tapped her pen on the pad of paper like she was taking my order even though she knew darn well I was ordering the BLT. She spun my notebook around and took a look at it.

  “I don’t buy it.” She slid her eyes down to Gilbert. He was devouring the pie. “He has shifty eyes. He might be with the FBI, but something is going down.” Her brows lifted. She pointed to my notebook. “What is all this about?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head and dragged it closer to me before slipping it back in my bag.

  No one knew I was the granddaughter of The Gorilla. Well, two someones did. Trixie and Ben Bassman, the attorney for The Gorilla. I was advised to keep it a secret until Ben figured out if there were any mob families or relatives of mob families who might be seeking revenge for all my grandfather’s wrong doings. Again. . . blood money and I wasn’t touching it.

  “I am not going to do it!” someone screamed from behind me.

  I looked over my shoulder at the lunch crowd to see who was yelling. My attention focused on the bank duo, Pepper Spivy and Sally Bent.

  “I’m not.” Pepper shook her dirty dishwater brown bob back and forth protesting whatever it was Sally asked her to do. Pepper brushed down the arms of her pantsuit jacket (her normal attire) and sat up a little straighter.

  Ev
er since Sally got her job as a teller at Walnut Grove Savings Bank, she prettied herself up. She kept her long black hair slicked back into a bun that was perfectly secured on the back of her head and kept a weekly nail appointment at Shear Illusions.

  “Is everything all right?” Louie Pelfrey asked. He made a quick stop at his sister’s table on his way out of the diner.

  “Everything is fine.” Sally’s words were to the point. She gripped a copy of the Walnut Grove Journal in her fist. “I’m fine.” Her words softened.

  Her eyes lowered and glided my way. Our eyes locked, sending chills up my freshly shaved legs.

  “Willie Ray Bowman escaped,” she mouthed to me, stopping my heart.

  I gripped the counter and sucked in some much needed air. I looked back over to Sally. Her brother Louie moseyed over to assess the situation. Her eyes darted over her shoulder. Her lips pursed.

  “I wonder what’s going on over there.” Gia’s head craned over the lunch crowd who had taken interest in what was going on with the bank tellers.

  I took notice of the journal Sally had put back on their table and watched her use her hand to flatten it out. The Hub was written in bold black ink at the top.

  “Hey, Gia.” I grabbed her before she made her way back down the counter with a full pitcher of tea in one hand and a fresh pot of coffee in the other.

  “Yep?”

  “Do you have a copy of today’s Journal?” I asked.

  She flung her head back, gesturing to Sally and Pepper, only their table had been abandoned and the Journal was gone with them.

  About the Author

  For years, USA Today bestselling author Tonya Kappes has been self-publishing her numerous mystery and romance titles with unprecedented success. She is famous not only for her hilarious plotlines and quirky characters, but her tremendous marketing efforts that have earned her thousands of followers and a devoted street team of fans. Be sure to check out Tonya’s website for upcoming events and news and to sign up for her newsletter! Tonyakappes.com

  Also by Tonya Kappes

  Olivia Davis Paranormal Mystery Series

  SPLITSVILLE.COM

  COLOR ME LOVE (novella)

  COLOR ME A CRIME

  Magical Cures Mystery Series

  A CHARMING CRIME

  A CHARMING CURE

  A CHARMING POTION (novella)

  A CHARMING WISH

  A CHARMING SPELL

  A CHARMING MAGIC

  A CHARMING SECRET

  A CHARMING CHRISTMAS (novella)

  Grandberry Falls Series

  THE LADYBUG JINX

  HAPPY NEW LIFE

  A SUPERSTITIOUS CHRISTMAS (novella)

  NEVER TELL YOUR DREAMS

  A Laurel London Mystery Series

  CHECKERED CRIME

  CHECKERED PAST

  A Divorced Diva Beading Mystery Series

  A BREAD OF DOUBT SHORT STORY

  STRUNG OUT TO DIE

  CRIMPED TO DEATH

  Bluegrass Romance Series

  GROOMING MR. RIGHT

  TAMING MR. RIGHT

  Women’s Fiction

  CARPE BREAD ’EM

  Young Adult

  TAG YOU'RE IT

  A Ghostly Southern Mystery Series

  A GHOSTLY UNDERTAKING

  A GHOSTLY GRAVE

  A GHOSTLY DEMISE

  A GHOSTLY MURDER

  Enjoy a free ebook from Tonya when you sign up for her newsletter by clicking here.

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Tonya Kappes. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address Author Tonya Kappes, P.O. Box 176988, Ft. Mitchell, Ky. 41017