Last Call

by Paula Matter

  “I heard arrested.” “New to town.” “Bartender.”

  I gritted my teeth, not daring to get up or even look behind me. I took a deep breath. Then a few more until I’d calmed down.

  Might as well take advantage of the fast Internet connection while I was at the library. I brought up the North DeSoto Reporter, the local newspaper, and went to yesterday’s issue.

  The headline and front page of course were all about Jack’s murder. About the only thing not mentioned was the scrunchie found in Jack’s truck. Bobby Lee must’ve withheld that little piece of information for some reason. Abby wasn’t mentioned by name, but Bobby Lee was quoted, “We’re looking for an important witness, someone who may’ve seen something.” That was probably Abby. I apparently was the “person of interest brought in for questioning, then released.”

  Terrific. At least my name hadn’t been printed. Not that word hadn’t spread through town by now. Who was I kidding? Word traveled before Bobby Lee had pulled out of the drive-thru of Mickey D’s. In this town if you’re heard sneezing, a person will bring you chicken soup, then go tell others you have the swine flu.

  Autopsy and toxicology results were expected in a couple weeks. Bobby Lee was also quoted as saying, “It appears nothing was stolen, and the weapon used was a short-bladed knife.”

  Sonofabitch. He hadn’t told me anything I couldn’t read in the newspaper.

  I scrolled to today’s edition and found Jack’s very short obituary. Sad, actually, how short it was, and I wondered if the funeral home had written it. Nothing about family members or any survivors. I realized how little I knew Jack Hoffman. He was seventy-eight when he died. The funeral was scheduled for Thursday morning, three days from now. What the hell would I wear? I hadn’t been to a funeral since …

  Ignoring the rest of that thought, I closed down the computer and pushed back my chair.

  “Shhhh!”

  Three old ladies, sitting at the table behind me, wagged their crooked little fingers at me. One held a finger to her wrinkled, pursed lips.

  “Sorry,” I said. I pushed my chair back in under the table, maybe a little harder than I normally would’ve, and shrugged when it screeched across the wood floor. Mouthing another apology, I left the library. Gossipy old hags.

  That made me think of another old lady. Gussie from the house next-door to the club. I’d add her name to my list of people to go talk to, even if the thought made me sweat. Maybe she saw something the night Jack was murdered.

  As I walked back to my car, I wondered what my next step should be. Going through the list of names, I still needed to talk to Dick and Diane Reid, Gussie, Kevin, and Pete. And somehow track down Abby. I also still wanted to check out Jack’s place. As long as the police chief was at the station, maybe I’d be safe in doing that. I peered through the plate-glass window of the police station as I walked by and saw Bobby Lee at the counter with more paperwork.

  Time to head to Jack’s.

  Nine

  The narrow dirt road was as bumpy as I remembered, and didn’t seem as long in the daylight. My car didn’t bottom out once, but I heard weeds scraping the undercarriage. With any luck, the branches of scraggly bushes on either side of the path weren’t scratching the car.

  Jack’s house was surrounded by pine and live oak trees. Normally, I would’ve stopped to admire the Spanish moss dripping from the trees, but the normally pretty sight seemed gloomy under the darkening sky. I hightailed it across the yard, the pine needles crunching under my sneakers. I moved up onto the porch and came to a dead stop. What? Now I was a friggin’ burglar? No way was I going to break into a dead man’s house.

  Unless there was a key under the mat. I moved past a ratty-looking wicker stand holding a dead plant to lift the front doormat. It was so old and dry, straw flaked to the porch. No key. I walked around it to the front window.

  The grimy, black window, its dirty white shutters splattered with love bugs, made me cringe. Leaning in as close as possible without touching the glass, I peered in. I could barely see, but a lamp seemed to be on and I thought I saw something move. A thunderclap boomed, scaring the crap out of me.

  Holding a hand against my chest and willing my heart to slow down, I turned away from the window. I moved to the porch steps, accompanied by another thunderclap. Sometimes I really hated Florida and its sudden thunderstorms. Since moving to north Florida, I had also learned a thing or two about sinus headaches. They never bothered me at all in Miami, but the weather was so different here.

  The rain burst down before I had a chance to even think about running to my car. I moved back toward the front door to wait it out. Most storms lasted ten minutes or so. I was grateful for the covered porch at least. Looked like Jack’s roof was in better shape than mine because the porch was staying dry. My little stoop and doormat always got soaked during these storms. I couldn’t decide if I should sit down or lean against the house or stay standing. Nothing felt right, and my skin crawled. I told myself it was the electricity of the storm, not a feeling of being watched. No one was standing out in that rain. After several minutes, the deluge let up enough for me to dash to my car.

  By the time I got to the end of Jack’s dirt road, the black clouds had parted and the afternoon sun was shining again. I inched my way slowly closer to the main road, hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone. All clear.

  Since I had struck out at Jack’s, I decided to go see Gussie. Unfortunately, there was no avoiding driving by the VFW on my way. Gussie’s house sat on the very edge of their property. Her driveway was on the side facing the club, which meant my car would be in plain sight. Nothing wrong with visiting a fellow citizen, though.

  A curtain moved on the large picture window above the driveway as I was getting out of my car. A sign on the door next to the window directed people to use the back door, so I scooted around there as well.

  “Maggie Lewis. What can I do for you?” A large, older woman with her arms folded stood at the back door, staring me down.

  Whoa. That stopped me dead in my tracks at the bottom of the steps. I knew we were on a first-name basis due to all of the noise complaint calls, but I sure as hell didn’t expect her to know my last name. I faked it and put on a big smile.

  “Good afternoon,” I said. “You are Gussie then, I take it?”

  “And who else did you expect? Don’t be wasting my time, girl, just state your business.”

  Okay then. “Um, I was wondering if there was any chance you might have seen anything in the parking lot the other night.” I pointed over my shoulder toward the club.

  “Meaning the night Jack Hoffman got himself murdered?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Where’d that come from? I might be a southerner, but ma’am and sir don’t come easily from my lips. There was something about this woman that made me feel inferior.

  “I saw that new girl and a man come out together. Jack came out just a few minutes before them.”

  Who had she seen? Jack, then Abby with either Pete or Sam. Which one? “Those three were the only ones you saw?”

  Gussie continued staring. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Shit. “You saw Jack get into his truck?”

  “That’s right. And I saw the other man and the girl get into their car and drive away.”

  I didn’t like the way she said girl, either about Abby or me. “What about Jack?”

  Her gray curls moved as she shook her head at me and said, “Obviously I didn’t see him leave, seeing as how he ended up dead.”

  Somehow I seemed to be asking the wrong questions. I tried again.“What else did you see?”

  “Before the man and girl left, he went over to Jack’s truck.”

  “And?” It was like pulling teeth.

  “Then he went back to his car and they left.”

  “The man and the girl left?”
/>   Her expression told me she wasn’t even going to bother answering that stupid question.

  “Could you see what the man did when he was at Jack’s truck?”

  “Just stood there for a minute or two is all.”

  “So, he wasn’t at Jack’s truck for very long?”

  “Girl, what did I just say? The man was there for a minute or two. He went back to his car and they left.”

  “And you never saw a third man?”

  “I saw lots of men that night, just like every other night.”

  “No, I mean at that same time—when you saw the girl and man leave.”

  “You didn’t ask that, did you?”

  I wanted to cry. I felt like a child in front of her. A small, stupid child. I wasn’t learning much from this woman. And it seemed like it was my fault.

  I smiled at her and said, “Thank you very much. You were very helpful.” I turned to walk away, wanting to run back to my car.

  “Don’t you want to know about the cars I saw later that night?”

  Ten

  “Ma’am?” I turned back to her. The look on her face made me wonder if she’d been toying with me all along.

  Gussie nodded. “Later, I saw a car pull up next to Jack’s truck.”

  “Do you know what time it was? Were you able to see anyone get out of the car? Do you know what kind of car it was?”

  “Good questions, girl. Finally.” She shuffled over to the porch swing, sat, and pointed to a small wooden chair. “C’mon up and sit.”

  I felt like I’d passed some kind of test and this was my reward from a forbidding but ultimately fair teacher. I lowered myself to the hard chair, watching her attentively.

  “So, let’s see. It was too dark to see anything other than the headlights. What’s that tell you?”

  I thought about it and said, “It was after two fifteen in the morning because that’s when the streetlight goes off.” The security light had been installed years ago when bars and clubs were still open until two. One of the past VFW commanders had made the request for the safety of his bartender leaving that late. The light was still set to go off automatically at 2:15 a.m. even though we now closed at midnight.

  Gussie blinked slowly. “That’s right. What else?”

  “You said cars, not car. You saw more than one. And it sounds like it was two different times. Two different cars?”

  She nodded.

  “Were you able to see the people who were in the cars?”

  “No, it was too dark. Around twelve thirty, Jack came out the front door and got in his truck. Stumbling quite a bit. Five minutes later the man and the girl came out the side door and walked to his car. The girl got in. The man walked over to Jack’s truck, then he went back to his car and drove away. Jack sat there for a long time. I’ve seen him do that, so I wasn’t concerned. I once saw Jack drive away just as the sun was coming up. I don’t think it’s right that y’all allowed that man to drink so much that he had to sleep it off.”

  I started to object because I never let any of my customers get that drunk, but I had a hunch I’d be wasting my breath. I let her continue.

  “A couple of hours later, shortly after the streetlight went out, I saw a car pull in and park next to Jack’s truck. I saw the inside light turn on in Jack’s truck, but didn’t see much else other than moving shadows.”

  I picked up on that. “Shadows. More than one. Does that mean you might’ve seen more than one person? But you couldn’t tell who they were because it was too dark?”

  “Straight to the head of the class!”

  I couldn’t help my grin. I think I had figured out something else. “You were a teacher, weren’t you?”

  “Once upon a time,” she said with a small smile now. “You just learned how to ask the right questions, didn’t you?”

  “Okay. So, what else? After that car left, you saw another one come by later? How much later? Was it the same car? The same people?”

  “Girl, now you’re asking the right questions, but don’t you think you ought to give me time to answer them?” She closed her eyes, shook her head back and forth a few times as if she were replaying the scene in her head. I kept my mouth shut and waited.

  Gussie opened her eyes and said, “Different car. Smaller. About forty-five minutes, an hour later. The driver got out, went inside the building. Another person got out of the passenger side. Saw the inside light of Jack’s truck go on again for minute, then go off. The person got back in the car, sat there for several minutes until the driver came back, and finally drove away.”

  That may explain the 3:30 a.m. visitor who used my security code. “Could you tell if it was the same two people, but driving a different car?”

  The older woman shrugged her broad shoulders. “That’d be my guess, but don’t know for sure.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, I’d best get back inside.” She stood.

  “May I ask you something? Kind of personal?”

  “You want to know why I’m always looking out the windows, don’t you? Insomnia, girl. I’ve had it since my husband’s passing eighteen years ago. Just can’t sleep.”

  I felt even closer to her. “Thank you again.” A hug seemed too familiar, so I stuck out my hand.

  “Go on now, girl.” She shook my hand quickly and shuffled over to the back door. As I left her porch, she said, “Good luck, Maggie Lewis. God bless.”

  Delivered in that flat voice, the statement should have made me nervous, but suddenly I had the feeling everything would turn out okay.

  Then a loud rumble sounded. Oh shit, not another downpour. Turning, I saw the beer delivery truck over at the club. Man, that was loud. No wonder Gussie complained about the noise. Another thought struck me, and I quickly drove around the block to the club’s parking lot entrance. Sam’s truck was still the only other vehicle in the lot.

  I made it to the back porch just as Sam was propping open the screen door so the beer guy could go in and out. I was definitely not the person Sam expected to see.

  “Hey,” I said. “Need to use the phone. Okay? Thanks.” I rushed past him. Knowing I only had five minutes or so while he was busy with the delivery guy, I hurried through the bar and down the hall to his office.

  Cool. He’d left his door open. I went straight to his file cabinet and flipped through the folders. Sheesh. Where the hell could it be? His desk? Oh, God. Total unorganized mess.

  I quickly looked through one of the paper stacks on the corner of his desk. Aha! Abby’s job application. Abigail Quon. No wonder I couldn’t find her under Kwon or Kwan. I kept reading. Born in 1987 which made her twenty-eight this year. No other personal information. Even past employer was left blank.

  I heard heavy footsteps and I shoved the application back where I’d found it. I plopped down in Sam’s chair and picked up the phone receiver. Sam walked into his office.

  “Okay, thanks, see you later,” I said to empty air. I hung up, swiveled around in the chair, and pretended to be surprised to see him. I stood and said, “Thanks, Sam. I was in the neighborhood and suddenly remembered a very important phone call. Thanks again. I know you’re busy, Sam, so I’ll leave now. Thanks again, Sam.” I moved past him, willing my mouth to shut the hell up.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  I was really starting to get tired of my feet stopping dead in their tracks. I turned around and faced him.

  He leaned over the desk and pointed at the phone. “It usually helps to push one of these when you want to make a call.” He pointed at the row of clear buttons on the bottom of the phone base. “So, did you get what you needed?”

  Busted. I didn’t know how to talk my way out of this one. I stared down at my feet.

  “Maggie.” Sam walked over to me and pulled me into his arms. Like the Pills
bury Dough Boy, I wouldn’t have been able to fit my arms around him if I tried. But I did give in to the hug. Then I pulled away before the blubbering could start.

  His arm still around me, he said, “C’mon, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.” We walked together to the bar. The delivery guy was bringing cases of beer on his dolly to the walk-in cooler near the back door. We waved at each other. Sam went around to the small kitchen behind the bar. I sat on the same stool I had yesterday when Bobby Lee was questioning all of us. Amazing how one’s life could spiral down in a little over twenty-four hours. I put my head down and immediately regretted it. Yuck. The bar was sticky. The club would open in less than an hour and Sam hadn’t cleaned the bar yet. Hell, it should’ve been done the night before. Maybe he’d been too busy. I was never allowed that excuse, but I’m only a peon. Looked like the bottles hadn’t been wiped down for a few days either. Friday night, my last night working, was probably the last time they’d been cleaned.

  Sam came around behind the bar and handed me a cup of coffee. He’d already fixed it the way I liked it—lots of sugar and milk.

  “So. Talk to me.” He leaned against the shelf behind him.

  I lowered my cup and looked up at him. “Oh, be careful, Sam. Your elbow—” I spoke just in time to save him from knocking over the bottle of Jack Daniels.

  He steadied it on the shelf and said, “That was close. Okay, now, where were we?”

  The image of Sam running to get that baggie for Bobby Lee made me hesitate. I decided to give a little, as much as the police chief had given me. No harm in sharing that much.

  “I found out from Bobby Lee that there was nothing in Jack’s truck besides my scrunchie. He wasn’t robbed, so I guess that means Jack still had his wallet on him.”

  “Was the wallet empty?”

  Damn. Good question. I shrugged.

  “Because,” he said, “I’m wondering if the killer could’ve taken money out but left the wallet behind. He got what he came after and took off.”