Hot Southern Nights

by Gen Griffin

  “Depends on whether or not you tell me where the jewelry in Trisha's bed came from,” David replied.

  “I don't know what you're talking about.” Grover's expression was intentionally blank, but David knew he'd caught the old man off guard.

  “Don't bother lying to me, old man. I don't have the patience for it.” David crossed his tattooed arms over his chest. “We were having sex last night and we broke the bed. Diamonds came spilling out of the box spring.”

  “You shouldn't have been sticking your dick into places it doesn't belong,” Grover snapped. “Like my guest bed and my granddaughter.”

  “Your granddaughter is the best thing that's ever happened to me. She's everything I never thought I'd have. I'd take a bullet for her and-”

  “Does this declaration of love have a point?” Grover interrupted. “I don't know if I have the stomach for you if you're going to go all mushy and romantic on me.”

  “I did have a point. My point is that you're going to tell me where that jewelry came from,” David glared at Grover. “And who you killed to get your hands on it?”

  “We didn't kill nobody during that heist. We just bit off more than we could chew,” Grover admitted reluctantly.

  David crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the old man talk.

  “You don't need the details of the robbery, David.”

  “Give me the short version,” David said.

  Grover sighed. “The statute of limitations is long past, David. I won't go to jail for that robbery.”

  “And yet you haven't unloaded the jewelry?” David countered.

  Grover scowled at him. “Fine. You want the truth. I'll give you the truth. Your daddy and I stole that jewelry a good 10 years before you was ever born. Some Hollywood actress had died and donated her very valuable collection of gemstones and baubles to some film society or another. I don't remember the name of the group. They was taking the jewelry across the country and letting all these little podunk museums, theaters and art galleries display it for a couple of weeks at a time.”

  “Y'all got into a museum and stole the entire collection?” David didn't know whether to be impressed or disgusted.

  “They let the playhouse in Silver City have it for the opening weekend of one of their plays. Ricky saw the newspaper article and thought it would be just grand to get his hands on a couple million dollars in gold and diamonds. It was a big haul for a pair of small town boys like us.”

  “I can't believe y'all pulled it off,” David said.

  “It was 30 years ago in rural Buxton county. There weren't no security guards or cameras. Ricky went in through an air duct on the roof, stuffed all that shit in a pillowcase and climbed right back out. No one ever even looked at us twice.”

  “If you got out clean, then why do you still have the jewelry?” David wasn't entirely buying this story. Largely because nothing Grover had told him so far explained the dead body with the bracelet.

  Grover narrowed his rheumy eyes at David. He let out a choked snort. “We couldn't unload it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that we was a pair of petty crooks who normally stuck to stealing the cash registers out of gas stations,” Grover said. He held out his empty coffee cup for David to refill. “We didn't have the connections to fence a million dollars in jewelry. None of our connections would touch that shit. Everyone Ricky showed the jewelry to got spooked and told him it weren't worth the jail time.”

  “That's such a dumb fucking excuse, I almost believe you.” David poured Grover a second cup of coffee.

  “It's the truth. We were young and dumb. After the third fence turned Ricky down, we got spooked ourselves and decided we should just hold onto the shit until the heat died down. I took my half and hid it here in this house. I don't know what your daddy did with his share.”

  “He never sold it?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  David stared down into his coffee. “Tate Briggs found a bracelet with that corpse that was under my trailer. It matches one of the necklaces we found in the box spring last night.”

  The surprise on Grover's wrinkled old face was nowhere near genuine. “Is that so?”

  “Ian said the bracelet wasn't evidence so Tate gave it to me.”

  Grover sat silently in his chair and stared at the old wooden table. David was starting to wonder if the old man had finally died when Grover spoke.

  “Forget about the body. You're better off not knowing what happened to her. You got a perfectly good life. You got a mechanics shop that earns you good, honest money. You got best friends who are willing to lay down and die for you. You got Trish. She's a sweet girl and she'll make you a good wife. Don't fuck yourself up by dragging ancient secrets out of their graves.”

  “I want to know whose body was under my house,” David said.

  “No, you don't.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, son. You don't. You've lived your whole life without knowing. It won't do you no good to find out now.”

  “Grover-.”

  “You've got everything you could ever want from life, son. Take my share of the jewelry and have it melted down. Ain't no one going to recognize it as stolen after all these years. You and Trish can spend the money on one of them fancy weddings. Buy yourselves a real nice house or a decent piece of property.”

  “I already have a decent piece of property.”

  “Buy yourself a new one. Ricky's place is a graveyard, David. You don't want to live with those ghosts.”

  David blanched. “You're telling me there's more than one body on that property?”

  “I'm telling you to move, son. Take my share of the gold and buy yourself something pretty and new to live your nice, honest life on.”

  David sat down on the edge of the table. He felt numb and cold all over. “I don't need your money to buy a property. Pappy gave me the 20 acres next to Cal's place.”

  “He give you a house with it?” Grover asked.

  “Ain't nothing on it. Never been cleared. It used to be part of the lease.” David didn't know why he was telling Grover all this.

  “Use the money from the jewelry to build your house on it. Consider it my wedding gift to you and Trisha.”

  “You're serious?” David asked.

  “You know I am, son.” Grover stood up from the table. His old hand was shaking as he held his coffee. “You got anything else you want to talk to me about before you cook me my damn breakfast?”

  David had a long list of things he wanted to question Grover about, but he decided to stick to the important parts. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. “Yes. Actually, there is. You're going to start treating Trish with the respect she deserves. Also, no more throwing food you don't like out the windows.”

  “Fine. Now hurry yourself up with the sausage. Doctor says I need to eat with my medicine,” Grover said.

  “I will fix breakfast, but I swear to you that if I go outside in 30 minutes and I find so much as the slightest crumb on my bike, it will be your last meal. Understood?”

  Grover looked David up and down for a minute and then seemed to decide the younger man was serious. “Fine. You win. No more food out the windows.”

  “No more baloney in the air conditioner vents either,” David said.

  “I didn't-.”

  “You did. I had to take the one in Trish's bedroom apart at 2 am because the smell was making me nauseous.” David began slicing open the sausage packaging and flattening the meat into patties. “You and I both know that you've been intentionally trying to make Trish miserable.”

  “I don't want her here,” Grover said. “Her mother is trying to force me into a nursing home.”

  “You belong in a nursing home,” David countered. He pulled out a frying pan and deposited the sausage patties into it. He put the pan on a burner and turned it onto high.

  “You ain't got no right to put me in a nursing home,” Grover snapped. “Neither d
oes Trish. All I ever wanted was to be left alone to live out my days. I was doing just fine until Trisha moved in.”

  “Maybe you were, but I wasn't.” David pulled a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator and began cracking them against the lip of a second frying pan. “I like Trish being here. I want her to stay, preferably forever.”

  “I got that already,” Grover muttered. “You can keep the girl. I just want y'all, both of y'all, out of my house.”

  “Which explains why you're willing to give me a million dollars in stolen jewelry,” David stated blandly. “But until my new house gets built, you're stuck with us. You might as well learn to live by the rules.”

  “What rules?” Grover demanded.

  David held up one hand and began ticking his points off on his fingertips. “No more throwing food. No more trashing the house intentionally. No more shooting at people. And you're going to tell me where you're hiding all the rest of your contraband.”

  “Contraband?” Grover snorted.

  “Guns, alcohol, drugs and anything else you or my father stole and squirreled away for a rainy day.” David flipped the sausages and scrambled the eggs.

  “You have a lot of nerve,” Grover informed him.

  “Yup.” David pulled three plates out of the cupboard and began dishing food out onto them.

  “You really think you can make me play by your rules?” Grover asked.

  “I think that you want to play by my rules,” David countered. “You may not respect me, but you don't want me as an enemy.”

  Grover sighed and sat down at the dining room table with a loud plop. “Fine. Have it all your way. I'm just an old man who can't protect himself. I reckon you win. You're the boss now, David.”

  “I thought you might come around to seeing things my way.” David put Grover's plate down in front of him. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

  “Go to hell,” Grover said as he picked up his fork and started to shovel the food into his mouth.

  Chapter 41

  “Ian's case?” Kerry was standing in front of Sheriff Frank Chasson's desk, staring at the Sheriff with total disbelief. “With all due respect, didn't you just assign me to all of the cold cases?”

  “With all due respect, do you remember the last dead body that turned up around here?” Frank gave Kerry an uncomfortably penetrating look.

  Kerry swallowed miserably. “Yes sir.”

  “You were the primary investigator on that case, correct?” Frank was leading the conversation in a direction Kerry wasn't too happy with.

  “Yes sir.” Kerry made the admission with some reluctance. “We solved Mr. Gomez's murder, sir. Richard Perkins is doing 20 to life.”

  “Do you recall how you solved that case, Kerry?”

  Kerry sighed and nodded. “I was taken captive by former officer Perkins.”

  “Right.” Sheriff Chasson gave his mustache a hearty tug. Kerry had learned to avoid Frank Chasson when he started yanking the gray hairs out of his mustache. “You were taken captive, handcuffed with your own handcuffs and shot at with your own gun. Am I remembering the details correctly, Deputy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “As I also recall, you had to be rescued at gun point by Ian, Addison and your primary suspect. Who happened to be completely innocent as well as a close friend of several of your fellow law enforcement officers.”

  “I never said I didn't make some mistakes in the way I handled the case.” Kerry shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet. He felt like a small child who had gone up to the principal's desk expecting a reward and had earned himself a detention instead.

  “Saying you made some mistakes on that investigation is like saying the Titanic was a boat that sank, Kerry. Factually accurate but missing a hell of a lot of the details. The only reason you kept your job is because Perkins lost his when Ian arrested him for the murder of Benjamin Gomez. With all the complaints I've received about you, you're damn lucky I haven't found anyone else to hire to replace you.”

  “Wait, you're crediting Ian with solving the Gomez homicide?” Kerry ignored the comments about his lack of popularity. Being a good cop had nothing at all to do with making people like him, but he wasn't about to tell Frank Chasson that.

  “Who else am I going to credit?” Frank asked him with more than a touch of sarcasm. “David? Cal Walker?”

  “I put a lot of work into finding Mr. Gomez's killer.” Kerry felt the need to defend himself. “I was correct about the make and model of the vehicle that had been used to dispose his body.”

  “You still picked the wrong truck. And the wrong suspect. And then the suspect you picked had to help rescue you from the real killer.” Frank Chasson picked up a stack of papers off his desk. “You made a real mess out of the last homicide you were assigned. I'm not making that mistake twice. Ian wasn't the lead investigator on the Gomez murder, but he was the officer who brought in the killer. I'm trusting he'll bring the same level of success and professionalism into his investigation of the body we found.”

  “But sir?” Kerry held up the files he had brought in with him. Every missing person case that had been filed in Callahan County during the last 30 years. “If the body isn’t fresh then this case is a cold case.”

  “Not anymore,” Sheriff Chasson clarified. “Do us all a favor and make sure to put those files right on top of Ian's desk. Make sure they're set up where he can't miss seeing them.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kerry knew when he had been beaten. He sighed as he stepped back out of the Sheriff's office and into the main room.

  Chapter 42

  Trish's phone rang as she was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office. Grover scowled at her phone as she pulled it out of her pocket.

  “Your boyfriend calling?” He asked snidely. “I'd have thought he could make it two hours without hearing the sound of your voice.”

  She glanced down at the screen as she silenced the phone. “It's not David.”

  “Or maybe he's too busy to call you?” Grover changed his line of insults.

  “David had to go get a new driver's license and a new debit card this morning. I'm pretty sure he's going to be tied up all day.”

  “David has a lot of fucking nerve, telling me what I can and can't do in my own house,” Grover grumbled.

  “Are you going to listen to him?” Trish wasn't sure how she felt about David laying down the law with her grandfather. Nor was sure she how she felt about the origin of the diamond she was now wearing on her left hand ring finger. It was a crazy beautiful ring, though.

  “Ain't got no choice,” Grover snapped. “I ain't stupid enough to pick a fight with David Breedlove. Not too many folks in this town who would be stupid enough to pick a fight with him. Your boy has a notoriously low tolerance for bullshit.”

  “Thank God,” Trish muttered. Her phone began vibrating in her hand. She sighed and hit the ignore button.

  “Who keeps calling you?” Grover asked.

  “Curtis. He doesn't seem to understand the concept of divorce. He's been burning my phone up ever since I left him on the side of the road the other night. If he's not calling, he's leaving a voicemail. If he's not leaving a voicemail, he's texting me.”

  “You told David he's still harassing you?”

  “Not exactly. I didn't tell him the details because I didn't want to upset him. He's already having a bad week,” Trish admitted with a frown. “Curtis isn't on the top of David's priority list. He's more worried about the dead body you and his dad put under his trailer.”

  “David ain't got no reason to worry about that body. She's been there longer than he's been out of diapers.”

  “So you really do know who it is?” Trish asked. The phone vibrated again. She scowled at it, saw her mother's number and pressed ignore. She wasn't in the mood for exchanging niceties with her mother this morning. Nanette would be able to tell that Trish wasn't having a great week regardless of how hard Trish tried to put a positive spin on recent events.

&nbs
p; Grover snorted. “I ain't dumb enough to talk to you about nothing that I may or may not have known about when I was a younger man. David's goody-goody ass is bad enough. That boy is Joshua Walker made over. Real shame, considering how much I liked his daddy and how little I like Joshua.”

  “Joshua Walker was nice enough when I met him,” Trish said, unsure of what else to say.

  “Of course he was. David's his boy and you're David's girl.” Grover let a loud snort. “He's looking at you as the potential mother of his grandchilden. Or great-grandchildren, I reckon, at this point. I never did figure out if Jerry and Loretta had custody of David or if Joshua did. I don't guess it matters at this point except to say that Joshua ain't going to be looking at you like you're chewing gum that's got stuck to the sole of his boot. He's going to behave himself for you.”

  “I really like David, Grandpa.” Trish put her phone back in her pocket.

  “I figured you did,” Grover replied. “Especially since you moved him in without asking my permission.”

  “Technically I only invited him to stay one night,” Trish reminded him. “You're the one who said he was living with us.”

  “I figured he might come in useful.” Grover purposefully looked the other direction as his name was called by the nurse. “The roof needs some repairs. Whole house needs some repairs. Besides, it ain't safe for you to be living in the house alone.”

  “I'm living with you,” Trish pointed out as they stood up and began heading for the back office.

  “I ain't going to be around forever,” Grover replied. “At least I ain't got to worry if you've got David. He'll take care of you.”

  Chapter 43

  “How are you holding up?” Addison asked as David glared down at Trish's totaled Honda. Rain drops had begun falling out of the sky. Water was pooling into the concave dents that had been created when the car had crumpled against the tree.

  “Trish is lucky she's not dead.” David leaned on the hood. He ignored the rain that was starting to soak through his t-shirt. “God this pisses me off.”