Sharpe Wit Page 4

  “Yes, ma’am. Now just go on down this way until you get to the highway and go south a spell.”

  Deena did as instructed. Should she tell Darlene she was familiar with the area and had been there multiple times? She decided against it. Darlene might have a hard time understanding why Deena felt she needed someone more streetwise to accompany her on this mission.

  They drove under the bridge but found no one there. “Maybe they’ve gone to the soup kitchen,” Darlene suggested. “It’s getting close to suppertime.”

  “Let’s try the motel first,” Deena suggested and then followed Darlene’s directions.

  They pulled up to the Pine Tree. To say it had seen better days would be an understatement. It had seen better decades. The sign out front advertised weekly and hourly rates.

  “Look, there’s Tiny and Boles.” Darlene practically leaped from the car as Deena pulled in and parked. “Hey, fellas! How’s it going?”

  One of the men—Deena assumed Tiny, although the irony was that he was at least six foot two—took Darlene’s hand and spun her around in a dancing twirl. Her denim skirt, white blouse, and red pumps made her look like a square dancer. She whooped with delight.

  “What are you doing around here, girly girl?” the other man asked. He pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear and offered it to her.

  “No, thanks, Boles,” she said, catching her breath. “I’ve quit.” She glanced over at Deena. “Oh. Where are my manners. Boys, this is my friend Deena. Deena, this is Tiny and Boles.”

  “Howdy-do, ma’am.” Tiny dipped his head to greet her.

  Boles, on the other hand, just glared at her suspiciously. “What are you, a cop?”

  “Me? No,” Deena said.

  Darlene put her hand on Deena’s shoulder. “She’s a reporter for the newspaper. Real important lady.”

  Deena flushed with embarrassment. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly. But I could use some help.”

  Boles spat on the ground. The chaw in his mouth wasn’t the only sign that he habitually chewed tobacco. He was missing a few teeth, and the ones he did have were the color of molasses.

  Deena pulled out her cell phone and showed the two men the picture of John Doe.

  “See! I knew she was a cop.” Boles backed away. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Tiny said. “If Darlene says she’s a reporter, then she’s a reporter.”

  Boles shook his head and waved them off as he walked off around the corner of the motel.

  “Sorry about that,” Tiny said to Deena. “It’s just that a cop was here earlier and had a picture of the same man.”

  Deena’s muscles tensed. The police had a jump on her. “Do you know him?”

  Tiny, although the friendlier of the two men, must have had his own suspicions. He crossed his arms and then glanced at Darlene.

  “She’s legit, I promise,” Darlene said. “You know I wouldn’t bring trouble around here.”

  Tiny scratched at the whiskers on his chin. “Just why are you looking for this guy? Did he rob a bank or something?”

  Darlene tsked and shook her head. “Not hardly. He’s dead!”

  Tiny’s jaw dropped. “Well, I’ll be.”

  “It’s true.” Deena moved the phone closer to Tiny. “That’s why we are trying to identify him. So we can notify his next of kin.”

  His face showed he wasn’t buying it. “That’s not the job of the newspaper. Why are you really looking for him?”

  Deena squirmed a bit. Then said, “He was found with another man’s identification on him. I’m trying to find out where he got it and why he had it.” She hoped her honesty would get her the answers she needed.

  Tiny took a step back. “Hmm.” He stared at Deena for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he said, “I’ll make you a deal. You tell me whose ID he was carrying, and I’ll give you his name.”

  Deena considered the offer. It wasn’t like she would be giving up confidential information. It was all going to be part of her reporting on the case. She reached out her hand. “Deal.”

  Tiny shook it and grinned. “Okay, you first.”

  A quick glance at Darlene assured her it would be okay. “The driver’s license belonged to a man named Edwin Cooper.”

  Tiny raised a thin eyebrow. “That old guy who comes to bingo with that crazy-looking lady?”

  “Yep. That’s him,” Darlene confirmed. “You didn’t tell me that part, Deena. I know Mr. Cooper. He’s perfectly harmless.” She turned to Tiny. “I’ll bet your friend broke into his house and stole some things along with that ID. Do you know if that’s true, Deena?”

  She thought for a moment. It was definitely a possibility. Maybe Edwin hadn’t looked around enough to notice anything missing. “I’m not sure. It’s early in the investigation.”

  “Well, I don’t guess it would do much harm in my snitchin’, being that he’s dead and all,” Tiny said.

  Deena held her breath.

  “His name’s Rocky B. That’s how he introduced himself. How’d he die? Did the cops shoot him?”

  “Heavens no,” Deena said. “Apparently it was a heart attack.”

  “A heart attack. Right.” Tiny winked dramatically.

  “No, really. What else can you tell me about him?” She realized she didn’t have her purse and would need to take mental notes.

  “Look, I gave you his name. If you want more, it’s going to cost you.”

  “Tiny,” Darlene scolded, “she’s my friend.”

  “Sorry, sweetie. But a man’s got to make a livin’.”

  The idea of paying sources was distasteful to Deena. She’d learned from Dan though that it was sometimes necessary to grease the jaw to loosen the lips. “How about I treat you to supper?”

  Tiny slapped his leg. “Now you’re talking. Where are we going?”

  “Not with me,” Deena said a little too quickly. “I was going to give you money to buy yourself a meal.”

  “Even better.” Tiny glanced over his shoulder at the motel with its dark windows hiding who knows what. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private. I don’t need everybody around here knowing my business.”

  Deena led the way to the car. Tiny opened the passenger door for Darlene and then hopped in the back.

  “Drive down here and take a left,” Tiny said. “We’ll pull up next to the gas station.”

  “She apparently doesn’t know her way around town very well,” Darlene said. “I had to tell her how to get to the motel.”

  Deena bit her lip.

  Tiny chuckled. “Yeah, well, people like her probably live in the suburbs and don’t get out our way much.”

  Deena parked and pulled out her notepad and pen. “Okay, so tell me what you know about this Rocky B.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Tiny rubbed the tips of his fingers together.

  Deena was tired of his games. “Let’s see how good your information is first. You can get a pretty good meal for three bucks at the Taco Palace.” She shot him a snide look.

  “Okay.” He shifted his long legs into a more comfortable position. “I’m not sure where he hails from. Showed up here a couple of months ago.”

  “No last name? Where does he hang out?”

  “I never heard him give a last name. Not that unusual around here. His first name might not even really be Rocky.”

  Deena had wondered that.

  “He played cards with us some. Hung out at the bridge some. Was a good dice player. Nothing unusual . . . until the other day.”

  “What happened the other day?” Deena flipped to a clean page and waited.

  “Some of us were sittin’ out at the park. Nothing special. But then a car pulls up and Rocky jumps up like he knows the people.” Tiny coughed and rolled down the window to spit. “He says, ‘See ya later, fellas,’ and gets in the car and drives off with them people.”

  “When was this? What time of day?”

  “It was early. Before lu
nch.” Tiny ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Wednesday maybe. No, Thursday. Yeah, I remember it was Throwback Thursday at the kitchen and I thought, Rocky sure would have loved this stew.”

  Deena jotted down some notes but then couldn’t help but ask, “What exactly is Throwback Thursday?”

  “It’s when they take all the leftovers for the week and put ’em into a big pot. With hot cornbread, it’s the best stew you’ll ever eat.”

  Suddenly, Deena’s stomach growled. She realized it was nearly suppertime and the chips and salsa from lunch hadn’t held her over very well. “Was it unusual for Rocky to leave like that?”

  “Yeah, it was unusual. That old guy didn’t seem to know anyone else but us.”

  “What do you remember about the car and the people in it?”

  “The car was some old sports car. Dark red or maroon. I didn’t get me a good look at the people. Seems like there was a woman driving and a man next to her, but I can’t be sure.”

  The description didn’t match Edwin Cooper’s car. He drove a blue Honda. “Did you ever see him come back?”

  “Nope. I figured maybe they were relatives come to take him back home. Hadn’t seen him since. ’Course now I know why. Somebody probably killed him. Maybe his kinfolks or that Edwin Cooper guy.”

  Deena shook her head. “I told you, the coroner said he died of a heart attack.”

  “Yeah, but those law enforcement types are always trying to cover stuff up.”

  Darlene turned in her seat. “Quit being so paranoid, Tiny. There’s some good cops around here, like that yummy Detective Guttman.” Her face practically beamed.

  “Speaking of cops,” Deena said, “I suppose you told them all of this.”

  “Are you kidding?” Tiny put his hand on the door handle. “We don’t tell them nothin’. Ever.”

  “Anything else I should know?” Deena asked.

  “Not that I can think of. Now, how about that dinner money.”

  Deena reached in her purse. She had a ten and a five. She grabbed them both. “Here,” she said, hoping it was enough.

  By the look on his face, it was. “Thank you, Miss Deena. If I come across anything else, I’ll get in touch with you.”

  “Do you need my card?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “Nah, I can figure it out.”

  That sent a chill down Deena’s spine.

  He looked at Darlene. “Bye, sweetie. See ya around.”

  “Not if I see you first,” she said and giggled.

  He got out and Deena drove back toward downtown.

  “He sure is sweet,” Darlene said, clutching her handbag in her lap.

  “Yeah, for a conman.” Oops. Deena realized she was attacking Darlene’s friend. “I mean, he was awfully helpful. And tall. He was certainly tall.”

  The smile returned to Darlene’s face. “You may not have realized this, but that’s how he got the nickname Tiny. Because he’s so tall. Isn’t that just hilarious?”

  “Absolutely,” Deena said, nodding her head vigorously.

  After a few minutes of silence, Darlene seemed to straighten her back. Her bright fingernails dug into the sides of her purse. “Boles. Now he’s another story. He can be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? Like how?”

  “Let’s just say I wouldn’t put it past him to kill somebody if he got mad enough.”

  Kill somebody? Oh dear.

  Chapter 7

  Gary was already home by the time Deena got back to the house. Instead of running up to greet her, Hurley sat curled up on his favorite rug in front of the patio door. Despite the mild weather outside, the room had a chill. Gary did not look up from the sports news show he was watching from his recliner.

  “Hey, I’m home.” She used her most chipper tone.

  “Hey,” Gary grumbled back.

  “What’s eating you? Did you and Scott get in a quarrel already?” She tossed her purse on the coffee table and plopped down onto the sofa.

  “Nope.”

  Something was obviously wrong with her husband. Maybe one of his teams had lost whatever game was in season, or maybe his favorite team had traded away their best player. Those were the usual reasons for Gary to be grouchy.

  Then she remembered what had happened earlier. “By the way, I have a bone to pick with you.”

  He turned his head slowly toward her. “You have a bone to pick with me?”

  “Yeah. When you left for the office this afternoon, you didn’t even say goodbye, much less give me a kiss.”

  Crossing his arms, he let out a grunt. “I didn’t think you’d notice. You were so wrapped up in your story.”

  “Well, I did,” she said. “And speaking of my story, I found out the possible name of the John Doe. I can’t print it yet without getting another source. I’m going to search online, but if I can’t find anything, I may have to tell Guttman.”

  Gary sat silently and nodded.

  “The man—Rocky B.— was picked up by an unidentified couple on the morning before he was found dead and hasn’t been seen by his friends since.”

  “Huh.”

  “You don’t seem very interested. Aren’t you excited about my progress?” Before he could answer, she remembered something else. “By the way, I had to give a guy named Tiny at the Pine Tree Motel fifteen bucks for some information. Do you want me to claim that as a business expense?”

  Gary perked up. “Definitely. Let me get my yellow pad and I’ll write it out.” He hopped up from the chair and grabbed his briefcase from the kitchen table. “You are keeping up with your mileage too, right?”

  She smiled. Whatever had sent him into a funk seemed to be gone. “Yes,” she called back as she pulled out her cell phone. “I’m using that mileage tracker you installed on my phone.” She tapped on the setting to mark that her previous drives were for business, not personal.

  Gary wrote down all the particulars of her meeting with Tiny and even asked her a few questions.

  Hurley came over and jumped in her lap, ready for his dinner as Gary fired up the grill.

  After they ate and cleaned up, Deena headed for her office and began searching the internet for a Rocky B. in Texas. Without a full last name, her search was fruitless. She made a list of questions she wanted answers to. There were also a few people she needed to interview. She felt herself getting sleepy and decided it was time for bed.

  She looked at the clock and realized it was too late to check on Edwin. She’d go see him first thing in the morning. Maybe by then he’d have noticed if anything was missing from his house. Turning off the computer and lights, she walked to the bedroom where Gary was lying in bed reading through a stack of documents.

  “Did you get much done today?” she asked as she changed into pajamas.

  “Actually, we did. We . . .”

  Deena tuned Gary out as thoughts of Darlene’s warning about Boles filled her head. Should she say something to Detective Guttman? At this point, she wanted to play her cards close to the vest in order to make her story as fresh as possible. News traveled fast in the small town of Maycroft.

  “Deena? Deena.” Gary’s voice broke back into her brain.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Were you even listening?”

  She squirted a few drops of lotion on her hands and rubbed them together as she got into the bed. “Of course.”

  Gary put the stack of papers on the nightstand. “Then yes or no?”

  “Yes or no what?”

  His jaw clenched and a vein popped out of his neck. “Are you still coming to the office tomorrow to help us assemble the new furniture?”

  Deena could feel her husband’s piercing stare. She’d forgotten all about the promise she had made last week. She’d let him down today. She didn’t suppose she could get away with it again. “Of course,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  “Thanks.” He leaned over and gave her a goodnight kiss.

  As she turned off the lamp on her bedside
table, she thought about all the things she would need to get done before her three o’clock story deadline. If she didn’t file a good follow-up story tomorrow, Dan would kill her. If she didn’t help Gary at his new office, he would kill her.

  Either way, tomorrow she would be dead.

  Chapter 8

  The alarm clock buzzed and Deena slapped the snooze button for the second time. She could hear Gary turn off the shower, which meant she’d definitely have to get up soon. She pulled the comforter up over her head.

  It wasn’t long before the aroma of coffee drifted under the covers and into her nose, delighting her olfactory senses. She squinched her eyes tighter, trying to will herself back to sleep. After all, it wasn’t like she was dying to jump out of bed and head out to assemble bookcases and credenzas. Maybe Gary would feel sorry for her and just let her sleep.

  “Deeeena,” Gary said softly. “Time to get up.”

  She lay under the covers wondering how the coffee smell could be so strong. He knew coffee was her weakness. Maybe if she sat really still, he would go away. But then she felt the pitter-patter of tiny feet and Hurley’s wet nose digging under the covers for her. That was the final blow. Gary knew she couldn’t resist coffee and the dog at the same time.

  Throwing the covers back off her head, she stared at Gary, who stood in the doorway holding a steaming mug of coffee and the newspaper. She should have known he was fanning it at her to wake her up.

  “Good morning.” He tossed the newspaper onto the bed. “Front-page story. Don’t you want to read it?”

  She reached for the mug with one hand and scratched Hurley’s neck with the other. “I don’t have to read it. I wrote it.”

  “But you haven’t seen it with the police sketch.”

  He was right. She took a sip of coffee and let the hot liquid run down her insides. She took another and then another. When she felt like her eyes were finally open enough to read, she picked up the newspaper. Even though the print was a little blurry, she resisted the urge to get her reading glasses. She was determined not to use them until it became absolutely necessary. It was vain, of course, but there was nothing pretty about getting older.