by Anne Hagan
He got down on one knee in front of Kris’s chair and pulled a ring box out of his pants pocket. “Karissa Crane, will you marry me?”
Chapter 15 – Sterling Moon
4:35 AM, Monday, August 18th, 2014
At some point, out of sheer exhaustion, I must have drifted off. I was startled awake by a nurse coming into the unit to take Sterling Moon’s vitals. When she touched him he coughed and shifted in his bed.
I raised my eyes to hers, “He’s awake?”
“Yes but he’s pretty groggy and he may be for a while.”
Moon rasped something as she was leaving the room and pointed at his throat. She turned back to him but missed the gesture.
“I think he’s saying he wants water.”
“I’ll have an aide bring some in. He can have small sips.”
He looked me over as I sat in the bedside chair. Recognition dawned on his face. Okay, he’s not as groggy as she thinks...
Moon was on oxygen but he was breathing on his own. That was a good sign. I was hopeful that when he got a little water down, he’d be able to talk.
A male aide appeared with a large plastic cup of ice water. He held the straw to Moon’s lips and watched as he took his first tentative sips. “Like that,” the aide said. “Small sips like that,” and then he was gone.
“Do you know where you are or what day it is?”
“They asked me those questions when I got here,” he rasped out in a barely audible whisper.
I moved the chair right up to the bed, as close to his head as I could get and took out my note pad. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“My legs...my legs are messed up pretty bad.”
“That’s not all, but that’s a start. You were beaten badly and dumped; left for dead under the Y Bridge. A few more feet and you’d have drowned in the Muskingum.” His eyes widened in fear.
“Do you know who beat you?”
He started to shake his head no but stopped and pressed the fingertips of both hands to his skull like he was feeling pain.
“Mr. Moon, my department has been looking for you for over a week. JD Roberts is dead after taking a bad beating. Whoever killed him nearly did the same to you. I need to find these people before they find you again.”
Sterling Moon swallowed hard and winced. He raised the cup he still held with some effort and took a couple of more small sips of his water. I waited patiently. I wasn’t leaving until I had the information I’d gotten out of bed in the dead heat of an August night to come and get.
“You and JD hustled pool?”
He nodded and sipped some more.
“You played at Ray’s?”
He half shrugged his shoulders, “There...other places.”
“You two run numbers too?”
He shook his head no. “JD, not me.”
“You weren’t working for a bookie?”
This time he looked me in the eye and said it, “No.” His voice was getting a little stronger.
“So JD worked for this bookie...do you know who the bookie was?”
“No.”
“Did JD take bets or just run the pays?”
Moon let loose of his cup with one hand and waggled it in the air.
“So, so?”
He tried to talk, coughed instead and then took a sip of water. “Mostly collected...took the money to an actual runner.”
“He didn’t carry payoffs back?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Why do you suppose that was?”
He rubbed his matted hair with a badly bruised hand and groaned softly. I waited while he formed his thoughts.
He indicated the rolling table and I moved it toward him. After putting the cup down but keeping a hand on it, he started speaking again, “We won some money playing pool...split it. He started betting and winning a little...wanted more. The high rollers he ran money from...wanted to be like them.”
“Let me get this straight, if he was collecting from them, they were losing right?”
Moon grimaced, “Couldn’t tell him nothin’. He borrowed some money from the bookie and started to bet big like ...lost his shirt.”
“How much?”
“’Bout five ‘G’. Guy wanted his money. JD started chasing after bets with paychecks and playin’ pool to win it back but he kept losing and he wasn’t no good no more with the pool either.”
Too much stress...
“The bookie cut him off and sent some guys around to scare him...wanted to take off but he didn’t have the money.”
“So, he cooked up a plan to get it?”
Moon nodded.
“You were in on that?”
He looked down at his legs, both in casts and then at his battered arms. “Yeah...I was. Stupid...”
“Tell me about the plan.”
“We hustled the high rollers at Ray’s in pool...that’s how he knew them. Two of them brought a third guy in and he whopped up on JD, one on one. After that, JD got buddy, buddy with all of them...wanted in with them.” He lifted his water, took a sip and set it carefully back on the narrow table.
“Go on...”
“When he couldn’t pay, he thought he’d rook those guys into covering his debt and getting a little seed money to go somewhere else.”
“How on earth did he figure on doing that?” I was confused.
“Told you, JD didn’t see the payouts, only the losses. Figured they had to be winning big sometimes to keep betting so big. He wanted to cash in on a losing streak.”
“Okay, so I’m really confused. How did he plan on setting them up to lose if he was only carrying their pays to a runner? He can’t predict a loss unless he knows their bets...”
He shook a finger at me, “That’s it right there. You got it.”
I grunted, “Got what?”
“JD knew when they’d be betting crazy and taking some losses. ‘Preakness and Belmont came and they bet on every crazy thing. Lost their asses on some of it.”
“Back in May and June?”
“Yeah. He knew if they bet on that stuff and since they were already betting on baseball, they’d probably go crazy betting on all the stupid shit to bet on with the All Star Game. He, uh, he rigged up their bets for the game.”
“That was in what, like the middle of July?” Moon nodded. “JD died August 6th. It doesn’t wash.”
“It’s true, whether you believe me or not.”
“So how’d you do it and don’t yank my chain because I know he couldn’t do it alone.”
Moon took a gulp of his water and sputter coughed for several seconds. I wasn’t letting him off the hook. I needed to know what went down.
“They called their bets in to the bookie. Everyone had a code they gave when they called in...no names. Bookie changed the call in number every week or so. JD cashed his paycheck one night just before the break and took it all to the bar. Flashed it a little like he just won it. Told the guys he was betting on the game. Called me...I was using a throwaway cell. Gave me his code and placed multiple bets.”
He got off the phone with me and jawed with them about the game, got em worked up. Told them they ought to go ahead and bet and then slipped to them that the bookie had changed the number again. Gave them the cell I had.”
“They all bit?”
“Hell yeah. We figured everything was cool. Game time came around and when it was all over, they lost more than $29,000 grand between them. It was enough to pay off the debt, the interest and for JD to get the hell out of town and start over. He went to the bar on his usual night to collect but none of them were there. He blew it off. Went back the next collection night, still not there. He couldn’t say nothin’ to the runner since...you know...didn’t involve the runner. Dumbass kept going back to the bar thinkin’ they’d show because he thought maybe they somehow got their pays there too but they never did.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I think he didn’t think it all through very well, stupid fu
ck. Those three, they were a step ahead of him. They didn’t lose every bet that game and they bet on other ball games too. Whoever paid them out must have tipped them that they’d been had. I think he thought they’d pay up quick before anything like that could happen.”
“They could have been parlaying wins against losses and delaying payments all along,” I said. “How would JD have even known?”
“True,” he coughed, “but they always showed up at Ray’s. It was their hangout.”
“Hmm. You got me there.”
“I think they might have been waiting for JD that last night and beat him up for trying to screw them.”
“You don’t think the bookie had him beat up for what he owed and, maybe, for trying to pull a fast one on him and his customers?”
He gripped the table edge with his less battered left hand and shook his head slowly. “Hell, I don’t know.”
“Look at yourself, Moon. If the bookie didn’t order the beatings, why are you here?” He didn’t have an answer for me.
“The bartender remembers JD being there that night. He says he acted like he was waiting for the guys he usually played pool with but no one showed. I think the bookies leg breakers were waiting for him and they beat him up to teach him a lesson but didn’t kill him because he still owed money. I also think they knew about you because the pool players remembered you and put two and two together for them. You became the target when JD died unexpectedly.”
Moon turned his face away from me.
“You know that too don’t you? You figure that JD gave you up trying to save his own neck. That’s why you went into hiding, isn’t it?”
Chapter 16 – Sayonara
10:45 AM, Tuesday, August 19th, 2014
The casket was closed. The mortician apologized, saying as politely as he could that no amount of makeup could repair the damage to JD’s face.
Cole insisted that it be opened; he didn’t believe his father was inside it. It took a lot of convincing by Kris, dad and finally the funeral director for him to let it go.
We had a private family viewing first, if you could call it that. Gloria had arranged for her pastor to conduct a brief memorial service to begin at 11:00. A few people straggled in, paid their respects at the closed casket and looked at the blown up picture she’d had made of JD then they took seats for the memorial.
Pastor Donoho came into the viewing room at ten minutes before the hour. Just as Gloria stepped forward to greet him, a woman’s voice rang out from the vestibule, “So nice of you people to tell me about the funeral! Glad I could get here before you had him spirited away and buried!”
All eyes looked toward the door as the funeral director tried to bar the woman from entering the room.
“Ma’am,” he said “this is a private viewing for the family of the deceased.”
“I am his family damn it! I’m the mother of his unborn child; now move!”
I strode through a separate doorway at the front of the viewing room near the casket and then down the hall toward where the woman clad in gaudy black was still being waylaid by the funeral director. She turned as she saw me approach. Olivia Stiers...Unbelievable!
“You!” she cried. “Why do you keep popping up?”
Trying to keep my voice low and even, I told her, “JD was my brother in law. You were told the other day by my sister that he has children. They’re here, they’re distraught and they don’t need this. If you want to pay your respects and you can be respectful to the family fine, if not, you need to leave.”
The Funeral Director took out a handkerchief and dabbed his brow. Olivia, taking advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration, ignored me and pushed past him. I followed on her heels and tried to reach for her arm.
Olivia shook me off as she made a beeline for Gloria who was now standing right next to the pastor, consternation crinkling his face. “You’re the sister right?” She yelled.
Tom moved swiftly to Gloria’s side. “Is there something we can do for you?”
“You can call your bodyguard here off!” She jerked a finger behind her toward me. “I have every right to be here. JD and I were lovers before he died and I’m carrying our child.” She whirled around and scanned the few scattered faces until her eyes came to rest on Beth and Cole. She pointed at the two of them in turn, “Our child has an equal claim on anything that they do!”
Olivia’s suddenly grew quiet and her eyes hardened as she watched a man come into the room and approach our group. “Why are you here?” she demanded.
Oscar Stiers replied, “JD Roberts was my employee. I’m here to pay my respects and see if there’s anything I can do to assist the family.” He scanned her face and pulled a sour one of his own.
“Mr. Stiers, it’s good of you to come.”
His expression softened again and he nodded at me. “Of course. Is there anything at all that I can help you with?”
“No, but thank you. That’s very kind.” Holding a hand out toward his daughter, I continued, “Olivia was just explaining to us that she’s pregnant with JD’s child. She’s actually demanding to be included in his estate.”
The color drained from Olivia’s face as her father, who grew immediately red faced himself, turned to her, “Is that true?”
“That I’m pregnant? Yes.” Her eyes shone with a look of defiance and her tone and body language matched it.
“Not that. That you’re demanding money from these good people? You don’t need money Olivia. You already have all you’ll ever need.”
The service began without any further hitches after Oscar Stiers shamed his daughter into leaving the funeral home.
Already stressed, I took a seat next to Dana and all but tuned out as the pastor began his flowery eulogy of a man he’d never known. Something he said though brought me back to the present...something about rebirth. It jogged my memory.
I leaned over and whispered into Dana’s ear, “JD was sterile.”
She spun to look me in the eye. “What,” she whispered in the most hushed tone she could manage. “Later,” I whispered back.
Fifteen minutes later, the eulogy over, Dana rushed me to the vestibule as fast as her limp could move us.
“Did you say what I thought you did in there?” She leaned back against the wall, crossed her arms and tapped the foot of her good leg on the carpet as she looked at me as suspect.
I stood next to her, speaking softly, at first, “I said, JD was sterile. The coroner gave me his medical records when we claimed his body. After a motorcycle accident, he was rendered sterilized.”
“So, if Olivia Stiers is pregnant, there’s no chance he could be the father?”
Speaking a little louder, I told her, “It’s not very likely at all, no. But now that begs the question, who is?”
“Mel, what about the Harper boy? Remember...at the fair?”
“Nevil Jr.?” I shrugged. “I dunno’. Maybe.”
“Aunt Mel?”
I looked over my shoulder. Cole had come up behind us.
“Are you talking about Nevil Harper Jr. being the dad to that woman’s baby?”
“It probably isn’t him buddy. We’re just talking. Just know that your dad isn’t her baby’s dad, okay? Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“Aunt Mel, I’m not a child. I know where babies come from. I saw Nevil at the fair with that woman. He might have made a baby with her.”
Not a child and yet...’made a baby’...God, I love that boy!
“Nevil dates older girls all the time.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“Aunt Mel, he’s like a mechanical genius. The whole time he was being home schooled, he was doing a self-study program for his, his...I think its called ASE. At school, in Ag class and during FFA meetings, he worked on our Ag tractors and some of our other equipment and kept it all running all of his junior and senior years.”
“Um, okay. What’s that got to do with him dating girls?”
The boy shot me one of
the “Are you dumb?” looks I usually only get from his sister. “He’s got an apprentice job at a Toyota dealership in Zanesville where he works on all the fancy foreign cars that come in. He’s always meeting rich girls with nice cars.”
Chapter 17 – The Best Laid Plans
Wednesday, August 20th, 2014
The beauty of a small town like Zanesville is that there’s pretty much only one of everything, if any. There’s only one Chevy dealer, only one Ford dealer and certainly only one Toyota dealer. I showed up there when the service department opened at 8:00 AM.
I was already late. Most of the crew was hard at work in the back when I got my turn at the counter. My goal was to corral Nevil Harper Jr. and talk to him on neutral turf, without the interference of his family.
The service manager paged the boy to the desk. He wouldn’t let me go into the shop – said it was dangerous. I gave him my best, “You must be joking?” look but he didn’t budge.
When Nevil Jr. appeared, he already had grease on his hands. His manager directed him to me cooling my heels in the waiting area with the paying customers.
“Let’s take a quick walk son.”
“Um, okay.” He nodded and started wiping his grimy hands on a rag that was only slightly less oily than they were.
I led us out the customer entrance to the service department and out into the lot. In the cooler temperature of the early morning, most of the service bay doors were open. A red Audi A5 was parked at one end of the garage, hood up.
“You a mechanic?”
“Apprentice. I’ll have my ASE real soon.”
“What do they let you work on?”
“I know you’re thinking I’m young but I’ve been working on engines since I was ten, helping my grandpa. I work on everything here. First I’m going to get my ASE and then my Master Mechanic.”
“What are you working on now?”
He pointed toward the last bay, “That A5. She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
I shrugged. “I prefer my pickup.”
He grinned, “I like those too.” He looked around nervously, then back at me, “Is this about the stuff at the fair? I swear ma’am, I didn’t have nothin’ to do with that. I only showed this year because dad would have made life miserable for me if I didn’t and all.”
