Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys

by Cassia Leo

  “You will come home with me. And you will stay away from that man.” She tried to grab Stella, but Stella fought hard and got free.

  “Don’t touch me, Mother. If I have it my way, I will never see you again.”

  The sheriff was reading off something to Dane. Stella ran back to him. “I’ll see you very soon. Okay?”

  But Dane stared at the ground, resigned, it seemed, to whatever happened.

  “Dane! Look at me!”

  He lifted his head, so defeated that Stella couldn’t stand it. “I will stand by you on this. You hear?” The sheriff stopped his droning, and the deputy tugged on the cuffs, pulling Dane back.

  Dane swallowed and turned toward the porch. The sheriff led them to a squad car, opening the back door and pushing down on Dane’s head to force him in.

  Stella ran into the yard, grateful to see the Mustang out front. Nick had brought it, and they hadn’t even noticed.

  Several neighbors were standing on their porches in robes, holding their papers. The sun was just cresting the horizon to the east. Stella watched the car as it pulled away from the curb and into the street. She looked down at her T-shirt. She had to change, dress in something more suitable, get down to the jail. She had money. She would get Dane out on bail. And she’d never speak to her mother again.

  ***

  Part 2: Separation

  27: Bail Bonds

  STELLA examined her reflection in Beatrice’s bathroom mirror. Long black skirt, silky white blouse, pearlized twister beads. All respectable. She teased her hair a little less than usual and kept the eye shadow to shades of gray.

  Beatrice’s voice still droned in the hall, where she kept her telephone on a little combination table and chair, talking to bail bondsmen. It was all so complicated, cashier’s checks and not knowing how much bail would even be.

  She stepped through the door, watching Beatrice’s head bob as she listened. “Yes, he was arrested this morning. No, I’m not sure when the arraignment will be.”

  She nodded at Stella and covered the mouthpiece. “I’ve got one. He’s going to check when Dane is most likely to go before the judge for bail. Dane’s the only one in there as far as he can tell, so it will either be at eleven or at three.”

  One good thing about Holly, Stella guessed. It held its own courthouse, a tiny jail with two cells, and Dane wouldn’t have to sit around waiting his turn to be released. “Does he know the judge?”

  She shook her head. “Didn’t ask. But Betty Wainsfield works up there as a clerk. We can call her next.”

  Stella’s stomach iced over. “But Betty is Bobby Ray’s aunt.”

  “Used to be,” Beatrice corrected. “She was married to Bobby Ray’s no-good uncle. But she left him a couple years ago. Bad blood there. She’s nice enough. Don’t worry.”

  But Stella did worry. Surely Dane’s lawyer would move the trial. No way could they be fair in Holly.

  Beatrice uncovered the mouthpiece. “Yes? This afternoon? Okay. We’ll be there.” She hung up. “It’ll be at three.”

  “Do we need to find him a lawyer?”

  “Mooner said Dane was already holed up with the public defender.”

  “Mooner?”

  “The bondsman.”

  Stella didn’t know anyone who went by Mooner. “Is that going to be good enough? Shouldn’t we get him his own lawyer?”

  Beatrice flipped through the tiny Holly phone directory, the size of an Avon catalog. “There’s Rick Pierce we could call local. I’m sure there’s tons in Branson who’d take the case.”

  Stella braced herself against a wall, still feeling achy and sore from the motorcycle crash. “How do we know what to do?”

  Beatrice shoved herself to standing and enveloped Stella in a Chanel-drenched hug. “Let’s see how the arraignment goes. Besides, Dane or Ryker might have already called someone in. We don’t know anything.”

  “I don’t think I can stand around all day,” Stella said. “I’ll go crazy. Can we just hang out at the courthouse, see what news we can get?”

  “Okay, Stella. Let me finish getting myself together. Bring a book or something. You’ll really go crazy if you just sit up there with nothing to do.”

  *

  Beatrice had been right. After an hour sitting on a hard bench outside the lone courtroom door, Stella was going crazy, pacing the hall, pausing constantly to listen and see if anything was happening inside. Only a hungover drunk had been dragged in for the 11 a.m. session, and he’d been sent home. Otherwise, people with parking fines or speeding tickets came and went, going up to the window to pay or arrange for defensive driving. The deputies had been busy earning their paychecks. Without a car, Stella had almost never run into them, although Janine had been stopped a time or two.

  “I’m going to walk over to the shop,” Beatrice said. “It’ll stay closed, but I just want to check to see if I missed any deliveries.”

  Stella plunked back down on the bench. “You don’t have to be stuck here with me.”

  “I’m glad to.” Beatrice pushed herself up, rubbing her rump. “Everyone knows where to find me if they need me. Not like there is ever a perfume emergency.”

  “I know I should go, get away from here. But I just can’t.” Stella leaned her head back against the wall, staring up at the dusty false ceiling above, its dirty rectangles no longer white.

  “I understand that, sweetpea. Don’t think twice about it. Your whole life is on the line here. I get that.” Beatrice swept her purse up from the bench. “I’ll be right back. Should I bring you something to eat?”

  “No. I couldn’t. I’m in knots.” The very thought of food made her stomach lurch.

  “Maybe some juice, then. I’ll be back. Maybe I’ll try to get in touch with Joe. See if Ryker came to work. He should be here.” Beatrice waddled toward the massive front doors, surrounded by stone. The grand entry fell quiet, the marble floor gleaming, a bird perched in the windowed arch above the doors. Typewriter keys clacked from some distant desk behind the glassed-in counter, now empty.

  Dane. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure him. On the tower, behind her. Kneeling beside Grandma’s bed. Curling her into him on his sheet-covered sofa. In the woods. The phone booth. Breaking the window. But the other scene kept coming forward, his hands, holding that barstool, shoving it hard forward, into Bobby Ray’s face. The way Bobby Ray fell, straight back, blood streaming everywhere.

  If only she’d never taken Grandma’s car to the garage, never tried to get herself between Dane and Darlene. She was a part of this, the whole turn of horrible events. And now Bobby Ray was dead. She remembered suddenly his fifth-grade picture in the yearbook. Before he’d gotten all weird and nasty, bullying kids and popping girls’ bras, cornering them and trying to make them kiss him. She’d actually drawn a heart around his picture, his cute smiling face, like he was somebody she might love.

  What had changed him after that year, led him into the man he had become, the one who would stick a knife in a stranger over a woman who didn’t want him? She ought to know. Everybody in Holly knew what warped everybody else. But the town must still hold some secrets.

  Her stomach burned so hot and sick that she felt sure she’d throw up in the potted plant by the bench. She gulped air, trying to figure out if she could make it to the restroom or should just sit tight.

  The door opened, and Darlene came in, clutching her mother. Stella wanted to hide somewhere, but they saw her. “You little whore,” the mother said. “You little bitch.”

  A man in a suit followed close behind. “In here, ladies,” he said, holding open the door to the courtroom. “We can wait inside.”

  Stella stood. They could go in now? But the man closed the door behind them, so she plunked back down. She didn’t want to go in there alone, with them and their sobs and their taunts. But they were right. She was the whore and the bitch. And even though Bobby Ray was an asshole and had something coming, he didn’t deserve to die.

  Maybe she
should go in and apologize or something. She smoothed her skirt but knew she couldn’t do it. They didn’t want to see her. They wanted to hate her, and she’d have to let them.

  Beatrice pushed through the doors again, this time with her own man. He wore a rumpled suit that didn’t fit, gray with prominent white pinstripes, something her father might have worn decades ago. His blue socks were electric in white shoes.

  “This is Mooner,” Beatrice said, clearly displeased. “Found him in the parking lot. He’ll be ready to post the bond."

  “My fee is ten percent,” Mooner said. “I’ve never seen the judge do more than $100,000 bail, but if he does, that’s ten grand you’ll need. You got that?”

  “I got that,” Stella said. It would wipe her out, years and years of saving to leave Holly, but she had it.

  “It won’t be that bad,” Beatrice said. “They might even let him out on his own recognizance.”

  “Don’t bet on that,” Mooner said, hitching up the back of his pants, revealing more blue sock. “They had quite a search for him, and they’ll want to make sure he don’t run.”

  “Will you being here make the judge feel better?” Stella asked.

  Mooner rocked back on his heels. “You bet. Never lost a man. Nobody jumps on my bonds.”

  Stella wondered why a man who could command that kind of money dressed so poorly.

  A deputy came out the door of the courtroom. “You may come in. Mooner, you carrying?”

  Mooner lifted a pants leg to reveal a pale calf encircled with a black strap and a Colt revolver. He tugged the gun out and handed it to the deputy. “Right-e-o,” he said. “Don’t lose it!”

  The deputy dropped the gun in a bag and stepped back to let them inside.

  The courtroom only had three small rows of benches, then the two tables for the lawyers, and a couple rows of chairs to one side for a jury. It was empty except for Darlene, her mother, and the man in the suit. The women were boohooing into linen handkerchiefs. Despite living all her life in Holly, this was one place Stella had never been. She would have been perfectly happy to leave without ever seeing it.

  Beatrice held tight to Stella. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Let’s sit over here.”

  They chose a spot farthest from the others. The cushion was a great relief after the hard seat outside. Air conditioning blasted them from the ducts set in another false ceiling. Stella kept watch on a side door, where she guessed they’d bring Dane in.

  A large clock above the judge’s bench ticked loudly. The other women quieted down, and they waited. Three o’clock came and went, and Beatrice shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Finally, the same deputy entered the room from the side door, taking a position near the front to stand guard. “Will he be the bailiff?” Stella asked.

  “Probably,” Beatrice whispered. “Everyone pulls double duty around here.”

  The door popped open again, and this time, Dane came through first, followed by one of the deputies from that morning, pushing him forward. Stella’s heart clenched. He wore slate-blue scrubs and had clearly been washed down. His hair lay flat against his head, and without his jeans and black shirts and chain, he looked more all-American boy than edgy biker. She didn’t care. He was still beautiful, even more so in his vulnerability.

  “Murderer.” Bobby Ray’s mother only muttered it, but in the quiet of the room, it had reach. Dane looked across the benches, noting Darlene and her mother, then settled on Stella. She saw his shoulders sag, but she had no idea if it might be relief or unhappiness. She gave him the tiniest wave, and he nodded grimly.

  The deputy pushed him onto a chair behind one of the tables. The door opened again, and a disheveled twenty-something entered, holding a stack of papers that he plunked down on the table next to Dane.

  “The public defender,” Beatrice whispered. “Looks a bit wet behind the ears.”

  Stella didn’t know him. He must not live in Holly proper. Another man entered, and this one she did know. Arthur Mendell had been a big-shot lawyer in Springfield until he decided to move to Holly to be near his daughter after his wife died of cancer. Stella had sold him perfume a time or two. She knew he did something at the courthouse, but hadn’t paid much attention to what. Must have been a step down for him, but she felt better seeing him there. Surely someone like him wouldn’t do anything untoward to Dane.

  Arthur nodded politely at all of them and rested his briefcase on the other table. The first deputy left the room for a moment, and a harried-looking Carmen, a woman who regularly came into the shop, hustled in from the side door. She sat at a small table off on one side and uncovered a little machine. The secretary, or whatever they were called, Stella guessed. She had no idea Carmen worked here.

  The deputy returned and announced, “All rise.”

  They stood, Stella wincing when she saw Dane struggle to get up in his cuffs, no doubt still hurting from the crash. She wished she had sat closer to that side. She hadn’t known where he’d be. She’d never felt so far away from someone, despite being so near.

  The judge entered in his black robes, certainly pushing seventy, a little stooped with barely a hair on his head. He sat down, and everyone else followed suit except Arthur and the young guy. Stella’s heart hammered painfully.

  “Tell me what we have here,” the judge said, shuffling through some papers.

  Arthur began. “We have the defendant, Daniel Scoffield, arrested this morning at 976 Cherry Drive.”

  “What are the charges?”

  “Murder one.”

  Stella couldn’t breathe, and Beatrice gripped her hand. What were they doing?

  The younger man sorted through his stack. “No history of violence, sir. Gainfully employed locally at Joe’s Garage. Family in town.”

  The judge pointed to Mooner. “You here to post bond for this fellow?”

  Mooner rocked on his heels. “I am.”

  “Is he a flight risk?”

  “No, sir.”

  Arthur stepped forward. “If I may, your honor. The defendant has had altercations not only with the victim, but also with another young man from this town, Allen Worth. And the victim’s sister and mother also feel threatened by the defendant. He made a spectacle at the sister’s place of work. We have two witnesses willing to testify to his angry state and his potential for violence.”

  The judge looked up. “Which one is the sister?”

  Darlene rose shakily. “I am, sir.”

  The bailiff stepped forward. “You want me to swear her in?”

  The judge waved him away. “Come up here, child.”

  Darlene walked to the end of the bench and approached the judge with obvious nerves.

  “Why are you afraid of this man?” the judge asked.

  “He—he attacked Bobby Ray,” she said. “And we used to go together.”

  “And now you don’t.”

  “No, sir.”

  He looked out at Dane, assessing him. “And what happened at work?”

  “He came in, really mad.”

  “What about?”

  “My brother. Got him mad.”

  The young man in the suit stood up. “Objection? She isn’t even sworn in, and she’s giving testimony that may be pertinent to the case.”

  The judge waved him away. “I’m just trying to decide on bail. Sit down, Mr. Flemming.” He turned back to Darlene. “So what happens when this particular young man gets angry?”

  “He—blows up. Gets really mad. It’s scary.”

  The judge rubbed his chin. “Okay. Thank you, my dear. You may sit.”

  The door opened and closed behind them. Stella could see Joe come in and sit in the back. She felt better, as though Dane had people on his side. But still no Ryker.

  The judge turned back to Arthur. “First-degree murder? We don’t get much of that around here.”

  “No, sir. Thank goodness.”

  The judge looked back at Dane. “I think this is going to require a preliminary hearing. I’ll set it
quickly, so we can get to the bottom of what happened here. Until then, I am remanding the defendant back to jail for the safety of the victim’s family.”

  Stella stood up, but Beatrice pulled her back down instantly. “You can only do harm here. Sit.”

  Joe stood up. “Mike? Your honor? Can I speak on behalf of Dane?”

  The judge waved him up, looking crossly at Flemming. “This was your job.”

  Stella looked back and forth between the lawyer, the judge, and Joe. Dane’s lawyer could have brought people here to help him? And didn’t?

  “Hello, Joe,” the judge said. “You got my wife’s old rambler running yet?”

  “Still waiting on parts, Mike. Those foreign jobs.”

  “Damn Japanese cars. I tried to tell her.” The judge laughed. “Tell me about this boy here.”

  “He’s a fine employee and knows his stuff. I really can’t spare him.”

  “You don’t think he’s a danger?”

  “Not a bit, sir.”

  The judge rubbed his chin again. Darlene and her mother started sobbing, howling, really. Stella wanted to throw something at them.

  “Well, Joe, ordinarily your word’s good with me, but we got a dead boy, and a couple distraught women.”

  “I can call witnesses to his violent behavior,” Arthur said. “I can have them here.”

  “I’ll set the hearing for Monday,” the judge said. “That’ll cool his jets.” He looked at Dane. “If you do well, and the charges get downgraded, we’ll see about bail then.”

  He slammed his gavel and stood.

  “All rise,” the deputy called out.

  Stella stood, but her knees felt like water. Dane had to go back to jail for a whole week! All because Darlene made a show. A lying show. Dane would never have hurt her.

  But when the women turned around, she saw no smugness or vindication. Just grief. They were doing what they felt they had to do.

  Stella didn’t think she could walk. Nothing seemed to work right. Still, she waited for Dane to be taken out, to stay until the last glimpse. He didn’t turn back to her and disappeared out the door.