Justice for Daesha

by Deanndra Hall

  Amos couldn’t believe how happy he was. Everything about her fed everything inside him―his ego, his need for closeness, his sex drive, his intellect. Over breakfast they had a conversation about the physics of putting a cruiser into a deliberate slide and what it took to make that end. She argued points with him, and he was thrilled with how much she knew. Then they talked about muzzle velocity of different weapons. In his joy, he’d forgotten that she’d been a well-trained soldier, and she spoke of all things weaponry with authority.

  It was the perfect day. They made sandwiches and walked to the back of the property where, to his delight, he found she had a little clearing and a picnic table outside the fence. There was another little pond back there, and the ducks seemed to spend most of their time there, according to her, coming to the house only when they were interested in having some grain thrown out for them. They ate, laughed, and talked for most of the afternoon.

  As they walked hand in hand back to the house, Amos couldn’t help rolling his eyes at hearing his phone ring. The ring tone was Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Happening, Brother?” That could only mean one person. “What?”

  “Whoa! What the hell? What kind of greeting is that?” Jack’s voice bellowed from the speaker along with a laugh.

  “Whaddya want?”

  “Uh, to talk to you, obviously, or I wouldn’t have called, now would I?”

  Amos rolled his eyes again and let out a sigh. “Jack, there’s got to be a reason why you called me.”

  “Yeah. I wondered if you and Daesha would like to come over tonight. Aleta thought that would be nice, and so did I.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Wow. Thanks for giving it some thought.”

  “No, no,” Amos said and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s not like that. She sings in a band, and―”

  “She sings in a band? How cool is that? I had no idea. Aleta talked to her about the wedding songs. I don’t really know her.”

  “Yeah, well, she does, and they’re playing tonight, so we have to be there.”

  There was silence, or at least Amos thought it was, but then he could hear whispering. “I just asked Aleta. Could we go?”

  “I don’t see why not. It’s a bar downtown, so you’d be welcome to come.”

  “We really want to. And we can eat there,” Jack said decisively.

  “They don’t have food.”

  “Oh. Well, can we meet beforehand and eat?”

  “She doesn’t eat a big meal before she gets on stage. She gets hot, and she has to move around a lot, and it could make her sick.” By the time he finished, Daesha was watching him and smiling.

  “What if we met somewhere like that place that does burgers and mussels? It’s downtown. She could get a little salad or soup or something, and we’d get done and get out in plenty of time for her to get to the bar.”

  Amos asked and Daesha nodded, still grinning. “She says yes.”

  “What time?”

  “Um, she has to be there by seven fifteen, so that’s six fifteen, so five forty-five? To make sure we have plenty of time?”

  “Yes! Okay. We’ll see you at the burger place at five forty-five and we can all go to the bar together. I’m stoked! This’ll be a lot of fun! Can’t wait! Okay. Trying to tone it down now. Deep breath, Jack. I’m good. See you tonight, brother.” Before Amos could say anything else, Jack hung up.

  “Well, he about pissed his pants,” Amos said, slipping the phone back into his hip pocket.

  “I take it they’re coming and we’re meeting them for food before?”

  “Yeah. Is that okay?”

  “Spending time with your brother and his wife? Of course that’s okay. I want to.” She took his hand again, then lifted it and kissed his knuckles. “Now, the parents? Yeah. That’s another story altogether.”

  Amos breathed a sigh of relief. Jack had been on his best behavior at the restaurant, so he hoped that lasted throughout the night at the bar. He had to wonder if being with Aleta was making his younger brother a little more “human”. There were times he was sure Jack had been raised by wolves.

  While Daesha and the guys got set up, the three Fletchers walked down the street and back, past the baseball bat factory and museum and the art and history museum. By the time they got back, all the band members were on stage, and they were tuning guitars and laying out their playlist. Daesha had warned him that it would be different. They’d prepared all eighties and nineties tunes, which was what they’d originally planned to play the night before, but the first song had gone so well that they decided to go with the other rock songs and forget about the pop stuff. She’d said they’d be doing Rick James, Prince, and Michael Jackson songs, plus Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, and a lot of others he remembered well. She also promised him they’d throw in some Def Leppard and Poison too just to test the waters.

  After opening with a Wham! song, she went through introductions similar to what she’d done the night before. As soon as that was done, they launched into Madonna’s “Just Like a Prayer,” and they were off and running. Oddly, Amos thought the bar patrons were enjoying those songs as much as they had the rock the night before, probably because she sounded so damn good. Jack leaned over and yelled in Amos’s ear, “Holy shit, she’s amazing!”

  “Yeah, she is. You should’ve heard them last night. It was incredible.” Amos sat there, nodding along in time with the song. Watching her up there was like watching a big show in a large stadium. She gave it every bit as much energy, if not more, than some of the big artists. And she looked cute too, in her plaid dress over leggings, some kind of little lacy pullover thing over the dress’s bodice and ankle-high combat-style boots with leggings. The thought drifted through his head, That woman loves me. God, that was something he’d never had before, and it was so comforting.

  When they took their second break at about eleven, Jack and Aleta announced that they had to go home because he had to be at work the next afternoon. Goodbyes said, Amos settled back in to watch the rest of the show. The patrons were behaving and everybody was having a good time. Even the bartender told him how well things were going and that they were hoping to book the Limestone Legends again soon.

  “Okay, y’all, you’ve been a great audience, but it’s time for us to go. We’re gonna leave you with this one. Thanks for coming out tonight, drive safely, and tell the bartender you want us to come back.” Daesha slipped the mic into the stand and Amos checked his watch―one o’clock. yeah, time to wrap it up. Their last song was R.E.M.’s “Shiny Happy People.” He knew it was weird, but he’d always loved that song, and everybody in the bar seemed to know it. Closing his eyes, he let the music and her voice wash over him, soak into his pores, and sink into his chest. If only the world worked as that song suggested …

  It hit him like a wrecking ball, and his eyes flew open. He stared at the logo on the drum kit. Holy shit, his brain whispered, afraid to even think it, but it was as plain as the nose on his face. As soon as the set was over, he moved toward the stage, wondering how to approach what he had to do. Play it cool, he told himself. “Hey, babe, that was great!”

  Daesha smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. I wish Jack and Aleta could’ve stayed a little while longer, but I bet they come again sometime.”

  Amos gave her a warm smile. “I think they will. He said they really had fun and he wants to do it again.”

  “Great! I’ll only be a few minutes. Need to help with some of this stuff.”

  Amos offered to help them, seeing as how they had to move everything out that evening. He had a stroke of good luck when Marcus asked, “Hey, Amos, could you help me carry my drum kit out?”

  “Sure! No problem.”

  Marcus handed him one of the snares and then grabbed the other. “Out this way.”

  Amos followed him to his van and helped him pack the two snares in their respective cases. “Hey, this is a beautiful drum kit.”

  “Thanks, man! And you can thank your girlfriend for that.”
>
  Amos’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I lost my drum kit in a fire, and I damn sure couldn’t afford another one. I was struggling just to find a place to live. Daesha showed up with this one. Said she got it for free because she knows the guy who owns the factory.”

  “Yeah, Kelso? Never heard of it before.”

  “Oh, man, it’s because they’re so exclusive! Not just anybody can afford a kit from Kelso Custom Percussion. And they’re right here in state too!”

  “Impressive,” Amos said as they headed back inside for the rest of the pieces. “And beautiful wood too.”

  “They use the same grade of wood that luthiers use on guitars, so it’s top quality. And all the brass fittings instead of chrome, plus the gilt logo on the front? Kelso drums are a status symbol. They’re classy.”

  “They sure are.” Everything from the snares to the high hats were Kelso, the brass cymbals stamped with the same design that was on the front of the bass.

  By the time they were finished moving and packing away the drums, Daesha had finished helping out and gone to the restroom. She showed up in just a minute, gripped Amos’s arm, and smiled up at him. “Ready to go?”

  “Yep. Night, guys,” Amos called out to the rest of the band members. A chorus of goodbyes filled the bar as they stepped out onto the street and walked toward the parking lot where his Jeep was.

  He had the blanket waiting for her again, and she wrapped up in it before she ever even got into the car. After he’d pulled out onto the street and was headed for the interstate, he decided he’d try poking around a bit. “I was talking to Marcus and he said you got him that drum kit for free.”

  “I lied. It wasn’t free, but it didn’t cost much. Chance wanted me to come and pick it up, but I asked him to ship it instead, so I had to pay the shipping costs. I mean, he was giving me the drums. It was the least I could do.”

  “Chance?”

  Daesha nodded. “Yeah. Chance Kelso. Kelso Custom Percussion.”

  “Somebody you know?”

  “We grew up together. Well, sorta. He was closer to Dorinda’s age.” That was an interesting piece of information. “We’ve been friends our whole lives, and our parents are friends.”

  “Wow. That was really generous of him.”

  She smiled. “He’s always been supportive of my dreams.”

  “Sounds more like a boyfriend.”

  She shook her head, her blond hair swaying. “No. Absolutely not. It would be too much like dating my brother. Ick,” she said and made a gagging sound.

  At least he didn’t have to worry about that. He filled the rest of the drive back with small talk, especially about what they’d spend the next day doing. Sunday was the only day both of them had off unless the band was booked somewhere, and he wanted to make it count.

  Just like the night before, Daesha showered and fell into bed, exhausted, but Amos couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about that logo and the dream he’d had the night before. He knew the dream meant nothing, but it had helped trigger his recognition of the logo.

  Pulling up the website wasn’t an option, and besides, waiting until Monday wouldn’t hurt a damn thing. Dorinda would still be just as dead, the logo would still be just as important, and the Kelso guy would still be oblivious to the fact that somebody was onto him. But he didn’t dare let her know what he suspected.

  If his suspicions were right, it would break Daesha’s heart.

  Sunday was a beautiful day, and they spent part of it in bed, part of it on the sofa watching TV, and part of it planning some fun for the following weekend. She cooked vegetables while he grilled, and they both worked in the kitchen, cleaning up and straightening. When they were finished, they sat back down in the living room, and Amos decided it was time to talk. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

  “Um-hmmm?”

  “You have rehearsals on Thursdays, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And we both have to go to work on Friday morning.”

  “Yep.”

  “But Thursday night rehearsals aren’t nearly as physically draining as the shows, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So how ‘bout this? I gather up my clothes on Thursday morning before I leave and I go to my house that evening. I can do all my laundry and get it ready for the next week, and I can pay my bills too. I’ll just stay there, and the next morning, I can put my clothes in the car, go to work, and come back here after work.”

  She took his hand and leaned up against him, looking up at him from under her brow with her lower lip stuck out. “I’ll miss you,” she pouted.

  “I’ll miss you too, but I think it might be good for us, don’t you? It’ll let us know if we really want to be together all the time or if we need some space.”

  She sat bolt upright. “Do you need space?”

  “No, but I’m just saying―”

  “Because I don’t need space. I’m happy with the space I have as long as you’re in it.”

  “And I’m happy too. But I’ve got to be one hundred percent positive this is what I need to do before I close up my house and decide what to do with it.”

  “You think it might be a mistake?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I think we need to make sure it’s not just in case, that’s all. I mean, Jack and I built that house. Selling it is something I’ve got to be one hundred percent positive of before I could ever do it.”

  She lifted her shoulder and let them drop as she sighed out. “Okay. I get it. But I’ll be miserable until you come back.”

  “We can text and call. I mean, you’d better call, or you’d better answer when I call!” he said and laughed.

  “Well, then, okay. I don’t really like it, but it’s not like I’ll be home sitting around while you’re sitting around elsewhere.”

  “Exactly. So that’s the plan. I think we’ll know in just a few weeks if we need to move forward with me moving in here.”

  “Okie dokie.” She leaned back into him and sighed as his arm wrapped around her. Amos hugged her close. She was his. He was hers. In that respect, things wouldn’t change a bit.

  On Monday morning, Amos’s first order of business was to go to the lab. As soon as he’d dropped off everything with Eric, he drove to the office. He’d no more than walked through the door before Mack yelled, “Amos?”

  “Yeah.” In seconds, he was in Mack’s doorway. “What’s up?”

  “Got a call from the AG. She wants to know if there’s anything even remotely true about the report of the deputy jailer down in Crittenden County messing around with the inmates. Normally we wouldn’t handle something like that―he’s not an elected official―but it turns out he’s the brother of the jailer. Nepotism at its finest. So if he’s actually done what they’re saying he’s done, then the jailer himself is going to be in trouble. Thought I’d give this to you, let you see what you can come up with.” Amos hesitated for a second, and Mack jumped right in. “Something wrong? Got something better to do?”

  “N-n-no. I just didn’t think―”

  Mack leaned up and gave Amos a look that said he didn’t feel like being fucked around with. “I know what you’re thinking, but you assured me it wouldn’t take time away from your job.”

  “And it won’t. I’ll get on the Crittenden County thing right now. Not a problem.”

  “Good. I need you on the job, not with your mind wandering somewhere else.”

  “No, no. I’m on it. And thanks for assigning it to me. I’ll get started.” Fuck it all! Amos wanted to scream. He had a whole list of things he wanted to do that morning when he got there, but they’d have to wait.

  So he started making phone calls all over the place, enough phone calls to find out that the jailer and deputy jailer were the cousins of the county judge executive. You have got to be kidding me, Amos wanted to scream. Holy hell, what a mess. He was trying to find somebody, anybody, in that area who’d tell him the truth about what migh
t be going on when he got a text from Eric: Come over when you can. He was unsure if that was about the ring and the logo or the deputy jailer.

  Twenty minutes later, he’d made a list of documents he needed to request from the state elections board and was headed to the AG’s office to see if he could get a warrant. It really wasn’t needed―the elections board would give him what was necessary―but that warrant covered everybody’s asses. In between researching that county’s resources, he’d brought up the Kelso Custom Percussion website, and there on its front page was the logo. He did a screen shot and sent that to Eric. “Stopping by the lab on my way to the elections board,” he said as he passed Mack’s office.

  “Good deal,” his supervisor called out to him as the door closed behind him, and he slid behind the wheel and backed the Jeep out of his parking space.

  Eric was sitting in front of a computer screen when Amos walked in. “Whatcha got, bud?”

  “First, look at this.” He pointed to the computer screen. Amos bent over and planted his hands on the desk, peering at the screen. “Now watch his right hand.”

  As Amos squinted at the screen, he could see the deputy jailer walk up to a prisoner. He ran his hand down the front of the prisoner, and when he got to the prisoner’s waist, he ran his hand down into the prisoner’s drawstring pants. The kicker?

  It was a male prisoner.

  “Holy shit. This is going to be a huge mess unless this guy will plead guilty,” Amos muttered.

  “Yeah. Here’s another one.” In that video, the deputy jailer walked up behind another prisoner, wrapped his arm around the prisoner’s neck almost in a choke hold, and kissed the man on the cheek.

  “Good lord. Didn’t he know there was a camera?” He thought for a minute. “Oh, wait. He thought his brother the jailer would erase that. Right. I guess Bubba wasn’t quick enough on the draw.”

  “Yeah. And as I go through the footage, I’m finding more and more. State’s attorney’s gonna love this one,” Eric said and chuckled. “Aaaaand I’ve got something else for you.”