“Be friends? Sure. We can just be friends. Because I want dozens of guy friends while I’m sitting at home on the sofa, watching TV and eating potato chips every Friday and Saturday night. I get it, Amos.”
“No. I was going to say we can just sit down and talk for a while, get to know each other. I’m not concerned with fucking you. I don’t even know you. But I’d like to get to know you, if you’d care to get to know me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re serious.”
Amos held up two fingers in a scouting gesture. “Scout’s honor.”
Daesha shrugged. “Okay then. Wanna go find a place to sit down?”
“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll follow you.” One thing he hadn’t noticed when he’d seen her walk away before was her ass, and it was gorgeous. The satin dress didn’t hurt either. It made her every curve even more appealing. When she stopped at a table, Amos pulled out the chair, then pushed it up when she was seated. He didn’t sit down across the table; instead, he sat down at the side adjacent to her seat. “So, how long have you worked at the VA?”
“Ever since I came back from Afghanistan, so about eight years.”
Amos blew out a breath. “Wow. It’s hard to believe we’ve been over there that long.”
“Yeah. Long time. How long have you been with the bureau, or whatever you call it?”
“We call it the department, and I’ve been there for about eleven years. Got a criminal justice degree and worked as a deputy sheriff for about a year, but that just wasn’t for me. It was going to take too long to get where I wanted to go, and KDCI does what I wanted to do anyway.”
“Which is?”
“Detective work. Investigative work. I love it.”
“Yeah? So how are you different from the FBI or the state police?”
God, Amos loved talking about his job! It would’ve taken him years to become a sheriff’s detective, but that’s all he did with the department. “We don’t handle every kind of crime. We handle three specific kinds. One of them is drug investigations that pertain to illegal prescribing or dispensing of prescription drugs, you know, like doctors who over-prescribe or nurses stealing and selling pills. We do a lot of work with the DEA on that, and on a task force in Appalachia. We do cyber crimes, mostly sexual in nature. We’ve got our own cyber lab, or we can do it wherever the technology takes us. We also help with cyber crime investigations for departments that can’t afford their own lab or equipment, like sheriff’s offices and things like that. And we do public integrity and special investigations, which includes sex trafficking investigations. That part, though, was originally intended to investigate public officials and government employees who’ve broken the law or done unethical things.” When he finished the last sentence, he noticed she was barely breathing. “You know, like elected officials and legislators, people like that.”
Her eyes were wide and she looked like she might cry. “Really?”
Amos nodded. What was wrong? Had he said something he shouldn’t? “Yeah. That’s a hard job. They’re not very cooperative.”
Daesha blinked twice. “Do you know about my sister?”
Amos shook his head. “Um, I guess not. Did I investigate her in something that led to her going to jail? Because if I did, I’m sorry, but I was only doing my job and―”
“She was murdered.”
Amos stopped cold. “What?”
“She was murdered. Fourteen years ago. And her murderer has never been caught.”
Oh, boy. That was what Jack meant when he said Amos needed to hear her story. “That’s not the kind of thing we handle.”
“You might if you knew who murdered her.”
Uh-oh. That was a wrong turn. “So you think you know who it was?”
“Yes.”
Amos wanted to roll his eyes and shake his head. “Oh? And who was it?”
“I can’t say here. It’s not safe.”
Oh, for the everlovin’ fuck, Amos wanted to yell. “So would you like to meet sometime and tell me about this?” What a way to get a date.
“I could. I’ve got all the information, the case files, everything. Our numb nuts sheriff isn’t doing anything about it, and we could use some help. And I think you’d be interested in some of the things I know about.”
What the hell? It couldn’t hurt anything. “Sure. Where and when?”
“Um, maybe tomorrow? At noon? At the German restaurant over on Dixie Highway near the Joe Prather Highway?”
“Sounds good. I’m game.” Amos couldn’t believe he was agreeing to that. He’d just made a lunch date with a crazy woman who thought of herself as a super sleuth. Boy, he’d have to remember to thank Jack for that.
“Thank you. Most people don’t want to hear about it. I haven’t been able to get anybody to listen.”
“I’ll listen.” And let it go in one ear and out the other, Amos thought. Oh, well. He had a lunch date to hear about a case that wasn’t his from a woman who wasn’t law enforcement. How bad could that be?
He’d told Daesha goodnight, then told the bride and groom and his parents goodbye before heading to his car. It was late and he’d gotten up early to help with all the wedding arrangements, so bed sounded like a good place to be.
When he got home, he just dropped his keys in the bowl and started undressing. By the time he got to the bedroom, he was down to his boxer briefs, and he slid under the covers and turned out the lights. He’d thought he would just drop right off because he was so tired, but instead, he lay there awake, thinking about Daesha.
Something about her … She wasn’t flaky. She didn’t seem like somebody who got wild ideas. There was purpose in her words, and he could tell she’d given a lot of thought to what she was saying. He’d also noticed no sense of desperation, and that meant she wasn’t telling every Tom, Dick, and Harry she met about the case. She probably wouldn’t have mentioned it if he hadn’t told her what he did for a living. But he had to admit, he was intrigued. It took him longer than he’d thought it would to relax because he kept thinking about those eyes.
When he woke on Sunday morning, he did the same thing he did every morning―started the coffeemaker before grabbing a bottle of water and heading out the door to run. He loved running. When he was pounding the pavement, he didn’t think about much. The rhythm of his steps was hypnotizing, and he enjoyed the feeling of stressing his body to the limit before he got back to the house. By the time he ran through the back door, the water bottle was empty and the coffee pot was full. In Amos’s way of thinking, that was the perfect beginning to any day.
As soon as he’d had some frozen waffles and a piece of fruit, Amos showered and got ready for the day. Jeans? Slacks? Jeans―definitely. Polo? Tee? Button-down? He picked out a tee he loved, one he’d gotten at a distillery in Frankfort, and then put on his favorite pair of athletic shoes. This lunch date was going to be a bust, he just knew it, so why go to a lot of trouble? It dawned on him that he didn’t even have her number or she his, so if she wanted to cancel, she couldn’t even call and tell him. Worse yet, he was having second thoughts about the whole thing, and he couldn’t call her. Amos Fletcher was a lot of things, but a son of a bitch wasn’t one of them. He didn’t stand women up. That just wasn’t his style, and certainly not part of his reputation. That meant not going wasn’t an option. He had to be there.
After mapping the address, he knew it would take him about twenty-five minutes to get there from home, so he went ahead and got on the road. His tank was almost empty, and he had plenty of time to stop and get gas, so he pulled into a station and filled it up. After paying for his gas at the pump, he decided he’d go in and get some gum. Having fresh breath didn’t hurt a thing. While he stood at the register, he noticed a vase of long-stemmed roses sitting there on the counter. “How much are those?” he asked the clerk. When he found out how cheap they were, he picked out one of them and paid for it along with his gum.
As soon as he got in the car, he realized how ridiculous that was. This wasn�
��t a woman he was interested in. He was just being nice and going to hear what she had to say, so he decided to just leave the stupid flower in the car when he got to the restaurant.
The parking lot at Das Dorfwursthaus was barely half full when he got there. He’d expected it to be packed on a Sunday. Everyone he’d ever heard mention it said they had the best bratwurst in the world. Amos thought that was a pretty bold claim, but he supposed he’d find out for himself. It took his eyes a second or two to adjust to the dim lighting inside, but when they finally did, he glanced around. Daesha was nowhere to be found.
He let the host seat him and waited. It was still five before the hour, so he figured maybe she’d come along just any minute. Sure enough, there was a blinding flash of light from the front door opening and when it closed, she was standing there, doing the same as he had, blinking into the darkness. Lifting a hand in greeting, he watched as she did the same and made her way to him. She had on a maxi skirt and a halter top, and Amos’s first thought was how cute she looked in that outfit. “Hi. Sorry I’m late.”
“Late? You’re right on time,” he said and stood until she’d taken her seat. “I was a little early.” A server showed up to take their drink order and left them to look over the menu. “What’s good? I hear the brats are amazing.”
“They are, but I love the bockwurst. It’s super good. Do you like slaw?”
Amos nodded. “Yeah.”
“Get the red cabbage slaw. It’s delicious.”
He chuckled. “Do you come here often?”
“As often as I can.” She glanced down the menu. “Oh, these baby brats cooked in mustard as an appetizer? Yum.”
Amos kept looking down the menu. “Most people don’t care for German food.”
“I love all kinds of food. I especially like Mediterranean and Greek.”
“I prefer Italian,” Amos said.
Daesha grinned. “There are other kinds of food I like better as far as eating goes, but I love cooking Italian food. One of my favorites.”
“Is there anything you don’t like to cook?”
“Mexican food. Not one of my favorites.”
He furrowed his brow. “Really? Why?”
“Don’t like the ingredients. Don’t like the sauces. Just don’t care for it. Besides, it’s been bastardized here in the states until most people wouldn’t know authentic Mexican food if it bit them in the ass.”
Amos laughed loudly. “Boy, that’s sure true!”
The server returned and they ordered, with a serving of the brats appetizer to share. “What kind of beer is that?” Amos asked.
“Hefeweizen. Want to try it?” She held out the mug and offered it to Amos.
“Sure!” He took a little sip and smiled. “That’s really good.”
“What did you order?”
“It’s a Kölsch. Here―taste it. It’s pretty good.” He handed it to her.
She sipped it and grinned. “It’s good, but I still like my Hefeweizen better.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I like yours better too! If I get a second glass, that’s what I’ll get.” He watched as she arranged her napkin in her lap and waited until she was finished before he asked, “Would you like to tell me about your sister?”
“Sure. She and my brother-in-law were getting a divorce. He had the kids and he went to take them home. When he got there, the front door was open just a little. He thought it was weird that the door was standing open, so he left the kids in the car and went inside to find her. She was in the bathtub. It was about half full, and they’d beaten her until she was unrecognizable.”
“Beat her? With their fists?”
“No. She had one of those glass bricks near the tub with pretty marbles in it. They threw the marbles out all over the floor and beat her with the brick.”
“Wow.”
“And choked her. She fought them until her nails were torn off. It was horrible.”
“So they broke in and―”
“No, no.” Amos stared at her. “They didn’t break in. It was somebody she knew. The alarm system was turned off. She let them in.”
Amos sat there for a minute, stunned. “So somebody she knew did this?”
“Yes.”
“I know I said it before, but wow.” He thought for a minute. “Was she a person who had a lot of problems with people?”
Daesha shook her head. “Not Dorinda. Everybody loved her.”
“Wait.” Something wormed its way through Amos’s brain. “Dorinda Wilkerson Blackmon?”
“Yep. She was my sister.”
Amos remembered that case. It had made headlines for weeks, but he’d thought surely by now they’d arrested someone. It had been fourteen years! “I bet you were in middle school then.”
Daesha snorted. “Not hardly! I was in college.”
Amos’s eyes narrowed. “How old are you?”
“Haven’t you ever heard it’s not polite to ask a lady her age?” When Amos sent a snort back, she laughed. “I’m thirty-four.”
“So you―”
“I told you how old I am. Aren’t you going to tell me how old you are?”
All Amos could do was chuckle. “I’m thirty-eight. Jack’s your age.”
“Ah! Yeah, I was twenty when it happened, and she was twenty-seven.”
“But didn’t they arrest her ex-husband?”
“Yeah, but that didn’t stick.” Daesha sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “He had this girlfriend, and she tried to hire a guy to kill Dorinda, but all the guy wanted to do was extort money from Max. So they arrested Max and the girlfriend, Bonnie Weatherford, for conspiracy to commit murder, and the guy, Ron Cotler, for extortion, but they wound up letting Max and Bonnie out. They were both real pieces of work, and that Cotler guy was just a plain old criminal. I don’t know how Bonnie found him. Probably an ad in the newspaper or something. Talk about dumb―that woman is a cranial tragedy.”
Amos laughed. That was an expression he’d never heard before. “Then if it wasn’t Max, Bonnie, or the Cotler guy, who do you think killed her?”
She leaned in, her forearms on the table, and tented her fingers. “Okay, think about it. She was young, but still an adult. In good health. About my size, so no itty-bitty girl. But they were strong enough to kill her, even though she fought them.”
Amos nodded. “A man.”
“But why?”
He shrugged. “Was she seeing anybody?”
“Aha. There’s the question. I haven’t found anybody who knew who she was seeing, but I know she was seeing somebody. At least three people had seen her with a man, but not in town.”
“Where?”
“Louisville.”
What was she getting at? “So you think she was seeing somebody who lived in Louisville?”
“Not necessarily. I think she was seeing somebody who possibly worked in Louisville. And if I had to bet, I’d say he was married.”
“And you think she didn’t want the relationship to be a secret anymore, so―”
“She threatened to go public and he killed her to keep her quiet.”
“Holy shit. Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Would that fall under your―”
“Not really, but there’s nothing to say I couldn’t look into it. Have you come up with any names?”
“Nope.” She looked past Amos and announced, “Here they come with our food.”
“Good. I’m starved.” He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. Excitement would do that to him, and he was excited. The possibility that he might get a chance to solve a murder had his imagination exploding. He loved investigative work, and that would be big, very big. “Have you shared this with law enforcement?”
That time she almost growled. “Yeah. They think I’m an idiot woman who’s clueless and doesn’t understand how things work, even though I can outshoot and outrun them, even with a prosthetic.”
“I’m confused. You went to college, but you were in the service?”
Daesha nodded as she cut a piece of bockwurst. “Yeah. I graduated, but with the murder so fresh, I couldn’t concentrate. And when nobody would listen to me, I just joined the service. It took me out of myself and out of the situation. I swear, if I’d stayed here, I don’t know what would’ve become of me. But being over there, being shot at, dodging IEDs―well, all but one anyway―really took me out of the situation and gave me some peace.” When Amos’s eyes popped open wide, she laughed. “I know. Peace on the battlefield? Sounds weird, I’m sure. But it was a different kind of turmoil than the personal turmoil I’d been in. People were shooting at me, but it wasn’t personal. It was just what they did. We shot back. That was nothing personal. But I know if I’d stayed here the whole time, I’d probably be in jail because I probably would’ve shot fucking Max dead as a doornail. Bonnie too.”
“No love lost there, huh?”
“Do you know what my parents have to go through just to see my sister’s kids? At least they’re almost grown now and they can come over when they want. When they were younger, he wouldn’t even let us see them on holidays or their birthdays. It’s been hard―really, really hard.” Amos felt bad for her. It seemed like everything in her life was upside down and backward. Couldn’t she catch a break?
He’d ordered a plate that had bratwurst, liverwurst, and knockwurst, and he sliced into the liverwurst. It looked a little mushy. “Um, this doesn’t look right.”
“Yeah, it looks fine. It’s liverwurst. Spread it on that piece of crusty bread. That’s how it’s intended to be eaten.”
Amos did as she said and took a bite. “Oh my god, this is delicious,” he mumbled through his food, still chewing.
“I know, right?” Daesha was grinning. “I told you that’s why I love this place. The food is so good, and it’s like a hidden gem. I really don’t want them to get so busy that I have to fight people for a table, but I’d hate for them to go out of business because nobody eats here. I mean, they’re not busy at all, and they should be. So I tell everybody I can about them.”
“Hell, I will too. This is awesome.” Losing that restaurant would be a shame. He’d never known German food could be so good. “You know what I wish they had?” Daesha’s eyebrows shot up. “Hard-boiled eggs. For some reason, that sounds good right now.”
Justice for Daesha Page 2
