by K. B. Draper
“Sister Linn?” I asked.
“More like daughter Linn,” she corrected. “Loretta is a good woman. She was quite the wild rebellious one back in the day, preacher’s daughter and all that, but then he sent her off her senior year of high school. She doesn’t talk about it, and there are all kinds of rumors, but she came back a different woman. She does right by people when she can. But her daddy, well, he still has a power over her, like he does a lot of folks ’round here.” She stepped back, realizing she was revealing too much. “But enough about that. This here is a good little town with lots of good people. Alrighty,” she clapped her hands together, “I’m going to go check on that food. You two just sit tight.”
“Well, that was fun,” I offered as soon as Flo was out of earshot. “Oh, and super cute impression of an ass-kisser you just did there.” I held my hands up, curved my fingers in two halves of a heart, and pressed them together in front of my chest. “I’m hearting you so hard right now.”
“I just thought we had enough problems, you know, being murder suspects and Nolia stringing people up from trees, so we didn’t need the preacher man breathing the gospel down our necks.”
Again, of course Danny was right but I didn’t have to like it. “He better keep his gospel away from me or his ass will need a flashlight to read the good word.”
Danny chuckled. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And that is why you like me.”
“A big amen to that.” He picked up his glass of tea to toast the statement.
I clinked my water glass, took a drink, and started in. “So, interesting little tidbit on the sheriff. You think you could find out where she was sent off to?”
“How’s that relevant to what we’re doing here?” he asked.
“It’s probably not. I’m just a curious bitch and want to know what happened to the once,” I paused to air quote the next word, “rebellious sheriff to make her such a …” Danny raised a ‘watch it now, you don’t know what happened to her’ eyebrow. I reconsidered my next words, “fun and delightful challenge.”
The unimpressed Danny responded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“We’re obviously going to have to deal with her. If I knew the source of her anger, maybe I could communicate with her in a more positive and useful manner?” I tried.
“I think you communicating is likely the source of her anger,” Danny replied.
“Hmmm, your theory may have some weight but still I-”
Danny held up a hand. “I’ll look into it.”
“You’re just covered in awesome sauce. Speaking of …” I sat back in the booth, spotting Flo coming in our direction with our order of cholesterol smothered in gravy. Yumsters.
Our conversation over lunch consisted purely of caveman speak, all grunts and moans. When we were done, I wanted to curl up and take a nap. I was considering doing so right there in the booth when Flo showed up with two bowls of hot blackberry cobbler and a scoop of vanilla ice cream shamelessly losing its battle to stay frozen on its berry-filled island.
Danny groaned again. “Oh my god, that looks amazing.”
“It is pretty darn amazing, so eat up, Buttercup.” She pinched Danny’s check before leaving us to our gluttony.
We did as ordered.
“You need to take me back to camp so I can lie around in glorious misery,” I told Danny.
“We haven’t exactly gotten any information about any missing bodies,” Danny replied.
I rubbed my overly full stomach. “I sooo don’t care right now.”
Danny smiled. “Why don’t you go walk it off. I’ll pay the bill and see if Flo might have any more info.”
I knew I didn’t have to say it, but I did anyway. “Extra big tip to make up for the preacher.”
“All over it,” Danny stated.
I passed Flo who was delivering drinks to another table and gave her shoulder a pat. “Thank you.” I put a hand to my stomach. “It was painfully wonderful.”
Flo straightened. “You come back and see me before you leave town, promise?”
“Promise,” I replied.
I left Flo smiling. If I was to ever settle down, that would be the kind of woman I would want to find myself waking up with twenty years down the road, sassy and kind, but could and would put you in your place if need be. Outside on the sidewalk, I checked right, then left, seeing what else this town offered while I cleared my arteries and my brain a little. Right looked as if it had more options, plus it led toward the courthouse and the sheriff’s department.
I passed a secondhand shop that offered all the things one would need for a new baby: strollers, highchairs, and a multitude of blue and pink outfits. My thoughts quickly fell back to the preacher/mayor and his daughter, now sheriff. That was a lot of power for one family to have in a small town. Run the church, be the mayor, and have the sheriff in your pocket? Add in Wayne Jr., the poser, who had somehow come in close proximity of a demon … yeah, it didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t have any evidence or anything more than a hunch, so there was a possibility that I was, in Danny speak, “projecting negatively because of my dislike for these individuals.” Maybe, probably … most likely, but I didn’t give a rat’s ass.
My prejudices and I moved past the pharmacy, past the jewelry store, and to the end of the block. I started to round the corner but stopped when I saw the courthouse in front of me. I had seen it only briefly on my trip to the sheriff’s department, but now I took time to admire the old building. Its four stories of grayed stone exuded its strength and conviction. I loved old architecture. I’d even thought about being an engineer before getting this gig and going into law enforcement. I respected the care and beauty taken in the placement of every stone, every peak, and every valley. I appreciated the talent it took to create the arched windows, the spires and domes; revered the mechanics that rang the bell hanging within the ornate clock tower. It was a testament to true art and skill. I was still gazing at the miraculous structure when I heard Danny come out of the diner, pause, then head my direction. I waited for him to join me.
“Fascinating,” Danny said as he took in the building before us.
“Pretty much,” I replied, taking another look and then turning to him. “Okay. So, Mr. Charmer, what did you find out? And umm, what are those?” I pointed at the white bag filled with something delicious.
“Muffins,” he said, his eyes alight with excitement. “Flo gave them to me.”
I took in a deep whiff of blueberry. “Nice.” I started walking around the square. “Any other goods, like of the informational kind?”
“Well, not a lot. She had customers to get back to, but she did say strange things have been occurring here for a couple of months.”
“Months? But the Nolia just showed up a few days ago?”
“That’s what we assumed, yes. But I’m not sure that what’s been going on here is related. She said the town is dying a slow, painful death. The youth are all moving to the bigger cities in search of jobs. Also, one of the larger employers in the area, a lumber factory, closed its doors about a year ago, leaving a lot of the residents out of work.”
I stopped, sat on a metal bench, and studied the intricate carvings on the archways over the courthouse windows. “Did she know anything about any missing persons?”
Danny and his bag of goodies sat next to me. “A little, that’s kind of what started her down the whole ‘town was dying’ story. She said some people would come by and say good-bye, announce it at church or whatever, but others are just packing up and disappearing overnight. She assumed it was the shame of having the bank foreclose on their house and such …”
“Anyone in the last week or so?” I asked.
“Roy Papst,” Danny replied.
“What’s his story?”
“Graduated in ’03, big high school football star. He was going to state college but didn’t pass a drug test. Came home causing trouble.”
“Like running cocaine kind of trouble?�
�
“Apparently, it was his truck you found. Or that’s the rumor anyway.”
“I have his plate number, just need a way to run it. How about leads on the handless woman?”
“More gossip.” He paused. “A lady, Vera Littlefield, didn’t show up for last night’s sermon. I guess she’s the church’s treasurer.”
I was quiet for a long moment. “Let me get this straight.” I turned to him. “We have a dead, washed-up football star turned cocaine dealer; a missing, presumably dead, church lady; a pompous reverend-mayor, who is the father and puppeteer of his daughter; the moody sheriff; and let’s not forget, a douchebag son who has been playing chauffer to a demon.”
“A Nolia Flaua,” Danny corrected.
“Nolia Flaua,” I repeated. I sat quietly for another long moment. Pondering my own words, I glanced around then back to Danny and smiled. “We need some solid information.”
“Why are your eyes sparkling? We always get in trouble when your eyes sparkle. Sparkle is bad. Very, very bad.”
I pshaw’d him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Danny pointed at my face. “And now you’re smirking. Smirking and sparkling. No, AJ. No. You need to forget whatever you’re thinking right now.”
“What?” I stood. “I’m just thinking about your muffins.”
Danny snatched the bag up and held them to his chest. “My muffins.”
I made a ‘hand it over’ gesture. “Trust me. This will all go significantly easier if I have those muffins.”
Danny held them tighter. “Why my muffins?”
“It’s for the greater good, Man-boy. Hand them over.”
“Damn it.” Danny held out the sack. “I’m so going to hate this.”
“Good possibility,” I said, heading for the sheriff’s department. As we walked, I briefed Danny on my plan, finishing up at the bottom of the staircase leading to the front entrance of the sheriff’s department. “Ready?”
“If I end up in jail for this little hack job, you better bring me muffins every single visitation day,” Danny ordered.
“Deal. I’ll also smuggle you in butt lube, ’cause your pretty ass will-”
“Not helping!” Danny exclaimed, starting up the stairs.
I jogged up beside him. “We have muffins …” I undid another button of my shirt, looked down, wiggled, and adjusted. “And ta-tas. What could possibly go wrong?”
Danny gave said ta-tas a sidelong glance then quickly diverted his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Just possibly everything.”
“You’re being a little negative and glass half-empty right now,” I stated.
“Fine.” He reached for the door handle, looking back at me. “I’m absolutely positive that I’ll need a full glass of something strong if we survive this.”
“There ya go. That’s the kind of can-do attitude I like in my sidekick.” I patted him on the shoulder.
“Partner,” he growled as I passed him.
“Tomato, side of potato, whatevs,” I sing-songed over my shoulder.
“Good afternoon, Deputy …” I leaned over the counter to pretend read the twenty-something deputy’s nametag. He about fell backward out of his chair as he looked up and caught sight of what I set on the countertop, or it could have been the bag of muffins. “Deputy Stillwell. I was hoping you could help us.”
“Yes. Absolutely.” He jumped up so quick the butt of his gun caught under the arm of the chair. He wrestled with it for a second, freeing himself only to race around his desk and ram his leg into its corner. He didn’t let the pain slow him as he hobbled quickly to greet me. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, my brother and I …” He looked at my blond hair and then at Danny’s very not blond hair. “I’m adopted,” I offered as an explanation.
He nodded, still rubbing his thigh.
“We were just passing through, saw your lovely town, and thought we might take in the local sights for a few days. Would you be so kind as to direct us to a motel and any points of local interest that we should see while we’re here?”
“Sure. Yes. I’d be happy to. We have a really nice motel just-”
“I’m sorry. Excuse me,” Danny interrupted, a hand over his stomach. “I don’t think all that fried stuff we had at lunch is agreeing with me. You wouldn’t happen to have a restroom I could use by chance, do you?”
“Yeah. Just down the hall, second door on the left. And there’s that fancy spray stuff under the counter.”
“Thanks,” Danny said, heading off.
The deputy turned back to me, his neck and face flushed. Could it have been that he just told Danny about poop spray or it could be what I had set on the counter. “Muffin?” I pushed the bag of baked goods toward him.
The deputy was three bites into his second muffin and just about to tell me the after-high school accomplishments of one Roy Papst, who was apparently BFFs with one Wayne Jr. And speaking of BFFs, mine had just slammed the door to her patrol car and was stomping up the staircase. Crap.
Sheriff Linn threw open the front door. Her deputy jumped and I rolled to one elbow, giving her my best “hey buddy” smile.
“What are you doing here?” she boomed.
“She was just asking for local attractions,” Deputy Stillwell stammered.
“And I brought muffins.” I scooted the bag in her direction.
She ignored the bag, looking pointedly at my chest. “So I see.”
She didn’t seem all that impressed with my offerings. Not really surprising since she was walking around every day sporting two triple D yam baskets, which FYI from this moment forward will be called Lucy and Ethel.
Danny skirted around the corner, trying to act like he had not just been hacking into the sheriff ‘s department database.
“Oh, hey. Sheriff, ma’am.” He looked over his shoulder. “Used your bathroom. Thank you.”
She shared the glare she had been giving me with Danny.
“Too many muffins. Gluten, it gets him every time,” I explained.
“I thought it was fried things?” The deputy said behind me.
Damn you, Lucy and Ethel. “That too. He’s kind of a pain to travel with. I’m constantly rolling down the windows.” I waved a hand in front of my nose. “If you know what I’m saying.”
“Good talk,” Danny said, grabbing my arm as he passed, “but we really need to get going now.”
“I have my eye on you, Miss Mattox,” the Sheriff growled.
I looked over my shoulder and winked while Danny was still pulling me to the door. “Then I’ll make sure to put on a good show so you get your money’s worth.”
“Holy crap,” Danny said once we hit the sidewalk.
“Well?”
Danny dug in his pocket, pulling out the Wonder Woman flash drive I’d bought him for his birthday. “I don’t know what all I have. Definitely Roy’s address, the case files from the two incidents, and two desktop folders from the Sheriff’s computer. One was titled HBO and the other was MOM. They’re both password protected so I thought they might be important.”
“Nice job, Dan-o.” I raised a hand for a high-five.
He fived me. “How about you?”
“Well, not as good as you, but I did find out Wayne Jr. and Roy were best buddies all the way through school. Them and two other guys, brothers Todd and Mick Butler. Guess they were quite the all-star athletes in high school, won state and the whole bit.”
“Those two guys still around here?” Danny asked.
“Daddy owns the hardware store,” I answered as we made our way back to Woody. “I’ve got to wonder if Wayne Jr. isn’t still leading the pack. Maybe even has his hands in a little cocaine ring. Daddy, the mayor, sister, the sheriff. Heck, maybe it’s a family business.”
“We’re going to investigate this little theory of yours, aren’t we?”
“Yep.”
“Because fighting a Nolia Flaua isn’t challenging enough for you?” Danny asked over Woody�
�s hood.
“All demons all the time makes AJ a dull girl.” I jumped into the driver’s seat. “Plus, it kind of has this whole-”
“You’re going to make a Walking Tall reference, aren’t you?”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “You know I love me some Rock.”
Danny groaned as he put a protective hand over the wooden bat we kept jammed between the front seats. “I’m hiding Hank.”
Chapter 7
I reviewed the two case reports without learning much more than what I already knew. It was Roy Papst’s truck that I had located. The sheriff’s department and park rangers were interviewing family and friends, running down leads to locate him. Blood samples were sent to the lab, as were fingerprints, but otherwise his truck didn’t produce any other evidence. The cocaine was seized.
As for the crime scene of the woman, again, blood evidence was sent to the lab as was the “black oily substance.” Good luck with that. Interviews were being done in reference to their best victim lead. Vera Littlefield, a sixty-two-year-old woman, lived alone only a few blocks from the church. They interviewed several of the church parishioners and a few of her relatives, all of whom lived out of town. As of the date of the report, no one had seen or heard from Vera since Tuesday morning when she did her normal grocery shopping on double coupon day.
As I was able to quickly review the two open reports, it took Danny the better part of the afternoon and early evening to unlock the sheriff’s secret files. Turns out, the HBO file wasn’t clips from her favorite True Detective episodes, but a rather impressive collection of case reports that had been HBOed, cop speak for “Handled By Officer.” There were about ten in total: a check the well-being report dated yesterday, which was called in by a woman who hadn’t seen her neighbors in a few days and their mailbox was overflowing; three suspicious vehicle calls involving a large black truck parked at the back of the hardware store; three reports of sexual assault by an unknown white male; and four reports of simple assaults by two white male suspects, all unknown. I found these odd as I took Union City to be an “everyone knows your name” kind of town.
