by T. J. Jones
"I feel bad for him, but I can't stay with him because of that, I don't love him. I don't know if my grandmother will take me back or not, but I have to get away from him. He's getting psycho, worse than normal. I'm afraid of him."
"Your grandmother will take you back, Jasmine, she sent us after you." Being partners, a discussion beforehand would have been nice, but Maggie's instincts were right.
"Oh great! So she sent you, and your plane isn't really broken?" I could hear the change in her tone, the headstrong girl returning.
"She loves you Jasmine, real love. You said you were ready to go home anyway."
She worked it out in her head and gave in. "But Maggie, I thought you really liked me."
"Well of course I do Jasmine, that isn't fake."
"So you two, are you even a couple, are you really getting married?"
"Of course we are, but I'm not really a lawyer, she's marrying a bum." I tried to help.
"Just because I'm a dummy, doesn't mean you should be." Maggie laughed wrapping her arms around the girl as she winked at me over her head. "Pack a bag, we'll help you get out of here."
***
Cletus walked in fifteen minutes later, sweating and out of breath. Jasmine had roused Doug and Tracey and explained that she was leaving her middle-aged lover and that they would not be sleeping inside, but that they were welcome to camp on the property. Tracey was angry, Doug thought it was a "Bummer." Jasmine had a small bag packed sitting on the floor. Ideally, she would have gotten in her grandmother's Toyota, left Atlanta and Cletus far behind, and Maggie and I would get in the Piper and fly home to collect our five-grand. Of course, Cletus didn't see it that way.
After more pleading that was embarrassing for everyone, Cletus got stubborn and mean. I knew he had snorted something, probably not slept at all, and was fragile emotionally. I hoped he wouldn't get violent, but that didn't work out either.
"How you going to run back home, bitch?" He demanded. "I went out to the garage, and your grandma's car is not going to go anywhere anytime soon. These two are leaving, I don't give a shit if they have to walk to Atlanta from here, they're gone. Doug and Tracey can go to the rally and you and I are going to sit here until we get this figured out."
"What the hell did you do to my grandmother's car? Let it go Cletus, I'm done. Did to you think I want to ride around on the back of that stupid bike for my whole life? I'm going to finish school, go to college, and you're not going to stop me. Get out of this house, or I'm calling the cops."
"No. Come on Baby." He stepped forward and reached out for her. Maybe he wasn't himself. Lack of sleep, his misguided passion, and the white powder all combined to make him very dangerous in that moment. I could see it in his eyes, the maniacal certainty that he would have Jasmine one way or another. I stepped in front of her quickly.
"No way Cletus, go sleep it off."
Most people that have been in a bar fight will tell you that whoever lands the first punch is likely to win. Sidecar had done me the favor of telling me how tough Cletus was, so I didn't hesitate or wait for the bell to ring. Before I finished speaking, I hit Cletus as hard as I could, right on the side of the forehead. Normally that would be enough. I'm a big pretty big guy and I can hit pretty hard. It dazed him, but the combination of adrenaline, drugs and just plain toughness kept him on his feet. Before I could try again, he was swinging. He didn't fight like a boxer, he just rotated his hips and flailed his arms and fists as fast as he could, using his size and weight to overpower me. He hit me so fast twice that I nearly went down, my ears rang and the colors of the room faded.
When boxers are outmatched, by size or speed, they grapple, get in close and hold on. That's what I did. I had him by the neck and pulled him in close as we hit the floor, not strangling him but not letting him get far enough away to take a full swing at me. I could feel his breath as he gasped and did his best to push me away, and we rolled across the floor, both of us trying to get the advantage anyway we could.
From the corner of my eye I saw Maggie run up with a bottle, presumably to use it on Cletus. Tracey, in a show of loyalty, grabbed Maggie and doubled a fist. Under Cletus as I was, I couldn't see the result of that altercation, just a glimpse of Tracey going airborne and a loud crash. By the time Cletus had broken my hold Maggie laid a beer bottle across his balding head, sending shards of glass everywhere. I pushed away from him and stood up, but surprisingly he scrambled up and lunged at me again. The beer bottle must have had some effect, because he had slowed considerably and I tagged him a good one. He went down but reached out a meaty hand, yanking me to the floor with him. The guy was stubborn, I'll say that.
Suddenly there was a roar that stopped the fight. A gunshot is pretty loud inside a house and there were bits of plaster falling from the ceiling. Maggie stood by the door with her small Glock pointed at Cletus. Jasmine stood behind her, eyes wide. I lunged through the opening and Maggie and Jasmine turned and chased me across the field to the Piper. They clambered in as I primed, then fired the plane up, one revolution, and we were rolling. There wasn't time for warmup so I crossed my fingers as I spun the Piper onto the airstrip. I couldn't believe Cletus would want to continue the fight, but he was half crazed and I just wanted to get out of there.
We didn't get in the air as fast as I would have liked because of the long grass on the strip and the fact that we had a tailwind. By the time I got us off the ground I had to make a shallow turn to avoid the trees and put us into the wind to gain altitude. We started climbing and flew in the direction of the house. Doug and Tracey already stood on the porch, and Doug raised a hand and waved solemnly like we were all still best friends. I should have peeled off then, headed north and stayed away from the house, but I was using the wind to climb quickly.
Far below us Cletus came running out onto the porch, fell onto his knees and raised his hands. Over the roar of the engine I couldn't hear the gunshot, but against the darker background of the shadows below us I saw the plume of fire as he squeezed the trigger on the gun he had retrieved from his backpack. I realized it didn't help, but I yelled out to the girls. "That crazy son of a bitch is shooting at us."
I banked hard and he missed us but must have kept shooting. Just when I was sure we were out of range I heard a sharp bang and knew that we'd been hit. Both the girls were screaming but the plane kept flying straight and no gauges were dropping so I thought he might have just tagged our wing. I kept climbing and watching the gauges, happy to get out of there alive.
"Slater!" Maggie said suddenly, and I could hear the fear in her voice. I looked over at her, and she lifted her leg a little. There was a jagged hole in her calf the size of a dime pushing blood out as fast as her heart could pump.
Chapter Fourteen
Jasmine Thatcher was not your average seventeen-year old girl. That had been obvious from the onset, but I had been too busy worrying about her self-entitled excursions with a middle-aged biker to realize that she had some amazingly good qualities. She was smart and fearless. While I got on the radio, reporting our dilemma and lining up help, Jasmine got Maggie's seat laid down with her leg as high as she could get it, made a half-assed tourniquet out of her sweat shirt sleeve, and kept pressure on her leg; all while covered with blood and continually talking to Maggie to keep her from going into shock. Maggie was white, but conscious and the bleeding had slowed. She still had her sense of humor.
"Jeez Slater, I can't even blame you for this, it was all my fault. I'm the one that wants to be a detective."
"Blame Cletus, he's the nut job that tried to kill us all."
"Blame me, I'm the idiot that ran off with him." Jasmine volunteered. "How long before we get there, Slater."
"We're going to Dobbins Air Base, it's closest and there's a hospital right there, fifteen minutes."
"I don't know if it matters, but I have kind of rare blood if they decide to pump some in me. I feel pretty lightheaded, so maybe that would be a good thing." Maggie paused and closed her eyes. I could s
ee she was in pain. "It's AB negative, I guess it's kind of uncommon."
"One percent for Caucasians. The good news is you can be transfused with any of the negative blood types, or they might just do plasma." Jasmine said, like it was something everybody should know.
"How the hell do you know that?" I asked.
"What? I stayed awake in biology that day."
I knew we might have another problem. A warning light was on, indicating low hydraulic pressure. The gear had dropped, meaning all the gear lock lights should have been on, but the left main indicator wasn't. I kicked the rudder over both directions to no avail. Jasmine noticed.
"What are you doing?"
"He's trying to be sure all the landing gear locks." Maggie glanced at me. "Probably got clipped by a bullet and the fluid leaked out. Maybe do a flyby, have the tower look for damage."
"That takes time."
"So will scraping us off the runway if it collapses and you aren't ready. You can go on two wheels, as long as you know what's going on. Want me to show you?"
"Lots of things I want you to show me, none of them have to do with flying."
She chuckled and closed her eyes again. "Sexist again, Slater. Just get me to a doctor, this hurts like a bitch, I need drugs."
***
I took Maggie's advice and called the tower. After a slow flyby, they confirmed that there was an issue with the gear. We still had the wheel but some of the linage looked bad. It was very possible the gear would hold and absolutely nothing would happen. The good news in our case was that the wind had freshened, coming from the south at a pretty steady twenty miles per hour. With full flaps I could keep the weight off the right side throughout most of the landing.
"So, are we going to crash?" Jasmine asked, laughing nervously. "A month living with a crack head, riding on the back of a Hog and getting shot at, I don't want to finally end up as a grease spot on a runway."
"Stop." Maggie moaned. "Don't make me laugh, I'm the one who has a hole in her leg, and I'm not worried. Slater's the best pilot I know."
I wasn't sure if she believed that, but it was nice of her to say. We had a lot of runway because it was an Air Force base, so I was able to keep the Piper dead into the wind. Once we were on the ground and slowing down, I eased off the asphalt onto the grass and basically kept it flying on the ground at a very low speed. As we got close to the control tower the fire trucks started running alongside. I killed the engine, shut off the fuel and braked hard, trying to keep weight on the front gear. We were close to stopped and I was beginning to think I had worried needlessly when the gear collapsed and the Piper slammed to the ground, digging the wing into the ground, spinning us sideways, and most importantly, wrecking the prop.
"Good landing." Maggie said. "At least most of us can walk away from it."
***
The next couple of days were intense. When I wasn't in the hospital with Maggie, I was filling out police reports, getting my airplane transported for repairs, and fighting with Angela. It seemed like she was mad on behalf of her father who was too lazy or disinterested to show up himself. She and her mother made it to the hospital the next day.
Maggie was tired and a little out of it from the drugs. Jasmine Thatcher insisted on staying for a couple of days until she knew Maggie was out of danger and her old boyfriend was in jail. I was a little surprised that Cletus hadn't burned the house down, but he had been picked up at the Bike Rally the next day without incident. He claimed he didn't know us or anyone else involved. He was too stupid or messed up to get rid of his gun, so his chances of getting off were slim to none. Jasmine called her grandmother and rented us a suite in a nearby hotel so we could both spend as much time as we wanted with Maggie and remain available to law enforcement. That, as much as anything seemed to bother Angela.
"Doesn't Maryanne think it's unseemly, you and a seventeen-year old sharing a room?"
"Jasmine has been riding around the country with a middle-aged crackhead for a month, that was unseemly. She's not worried about it so why are you?"
"She's jealous." Maggie chuckled through the fog of her medication. "She wants to keep it in the family. Guess what Angie, Slater and I slept together."
"Fully clothed, you left that part out." I mentioned.
"I know, I left it out on purpose." She laughed again.
"I think you should stop playing Private Eye, both of you. Maybe Davey did kill himself. Maybe it's too dangerous to be snooping around."
"You haven't told her anything?" Maggie asked.
"No, remember I told you I want to verify a couple things?" I couldn't fault her slip of the tongue, she was pretty out of it.
"Alright, this is bullshit." Angie snapped. "I gave you ten grand to go to Miami and you haven't said one word about what you found out. Isn't that breaking the Private Eye code or some kind of a law? I'm the client, I should get to know what you're finding out."
Something in her eyes in that moment triggered a memory, and the realization shook me to the core. I wanted to ask her right then, but I couldn't, not with Maggie in the room. I think she realized that something important was spinning around in my head, but I covered as best I could.
"Anytime you want your money back Angela, just let me know. I'll tell you what I know when I'm sure it's true."
"No, I'm sorry, you do what you think is right." She reached out and put her hand on mine and Maggie snickered.
"See Slater? Jealous!"
***
By Tuesday Maggie was ready to be transported home in a medical van. Rita and Angela had gone home on Monday so it was left to Jasmine and I to follow her back to Jacksonville. We went in the big house and helped Angela get her settled. Jasmine had volunteered to play nurse, but Angela hired an LPN since Maryanne Thatcher was paying for it anyway. We sat with Maggie for a while, then I was finally going to take Jasmine back to her grandmother. She sat on the edge of Maggie's bed holding her hand.
"So, is it okay if I come see you? I love both of you, you know that. You probably saved my stupid life."
"You're anything but stupid, Jasmine, don't let anybody tell you different, and keep rocking the blue hair, okay? Come see me every day if you want, as much as you want. I'll be out of the Detective business for a couple weeks."
I asked Jasmine for a minute with Maggie and she went out to my rental car to wait. I sat beside Maggie and leaned down to kiss her forehead.
"What was that for?" She blushed.
"You were amazing up there, you probably did save her life."
"Hey, we're partners, you were willing to get your ass kicked, just like back in high school."
"I had him right where I wanted him." I reached out and pushed a chestnut lock out of her eyes.
Her voice was a little husky when she spoke again. "I better sleep, these drugs are kicking my butt. Thanks Slater. We need to talk about Angela. I won't tell her anything, but she needs to know." She dozed off and I walked out to the car to drive Jasmine Thatcher to her new life, compliments of Maggie Jeffries.
***
I was glad to find my house in one piece and undisturbed when I got home. I went straight to my dresser and pulled out the small box I was using to keep all my information on Davey Templeton's murder. No doubt anymore, it was murder, and the potential suspect list kept getting more complicated.
I made the phone call, got in my truck and drove the two miles to Point Road. I stared at the stone wall as I drove up to the house, considering all the ways Davey Templeton could have died. No investigation and no autopsy. Maybe he had stopped in the rain, or been stopped. Maybe someone pulled him from his car, they fought, and he banged his head on one of these rocks, an accident of sorts. Then the fake suicide. But that would take two people, or one very strong one. Just another theory.
Claire La-font, Edith's long-time housekeeper and best friend answered the door. She gave me a small hug and walked me into the kitchen where Edith sat with a cup of coffee. Claire handed me a cup and filled it from the pot
on the stove, then stood nearby, waiting expectantly.
"So, do you have news? Did you find something out about Davey?" Both Edith and Claire leaned toward me, hoping for a scrap of information.
"More questions than answers I'm afraid. I'm sorry Claire, but do you think I could have some time alone with Edith?"
"Claire knows all about Davey and what he might have done." Edith said quickly.
"Alright, the good news, Davey was definitely not selling drugs. The rest of it I have to keep in my head for now, I still have to verify some things. I'm sorry, Edith, but I really need to talk to you, and it has to be alone."
Claire spoke up. "It's fine Eric, don't worry, time I was getting home anyway."
"I'm sorry Claire, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow." Edith glared at me as the other woman left. "Really Eric, there isn't anything Claire doesn't know about Davey."
"Maybe, maybe not." I pulled Davey's medical alert bracelet from my pocket and dropped it on the table in front of her, hoping a little theater would get a reaction, because I wasn't absolutely sure. "Does she know Davey's real father lives half a mile from here, straight across Point Road?"
She took a drink of coffee and bit her lip, but she didn't seem terribly surprised. "Yes. As a matter of fact, Claire does know that Davey's biological father is Frank Jeffries, I trust her with everything."
"You didn't trust me, and I'm supposed to be your investigator."
"How did you find out? Did Rita say something? I think she always suspected, but she's never come right out and said it."
"Blood type. When Maggie got hurt up north, we thought she might need blood. AB negative is pretty rare. Not impossible for two neighbors to both have it, but usually the simplest explanation is the right one. I knew for sure the other day, looking in Angela's eyes. Maggie's eyes are a little different, but Angela's eyes are exactly like Davey's. I'm surprised I never saw it before. Does Angie know, or Maggie?"
