Double Shot (11 page)

Meanwhile, I played some pool. I took game two and three of the match. But as Mr. Sage worked on clearing the table in our fourth game, I returned to Melissa and the topic of Fritz Lupo.

“Avis tells me Fritz Lupo was planning a road trip,” I said casually.

“No way,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, Mel.” I jumped and turned around and into Bobby Decker’s chest. “He was gonna take Angela with him.”

I frowned. “Did Angela play that well?”

“No, she did not.” That was Melissa.

“I think Angela was a good little player,” Ethel said, and Doreen tapped her cane in agreement.

“Good enough to go out on the road, though? I’ve never had the nerve to do it myself,” I lied.

Bobby grinned and enlightened me that not all pool players are as cautious as I.

“Fritz and Angela had themselves a plan,” Avis said. He sunk the nine ball and stepped back for me to rack.

I held off. “So the two people who got killed had plans to leave town together?” I feigned shock. “Do the cops know about this? I mean, it sounds like it could be important.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Spencer said. “Angela was not about to take off anywhere with Fritz Lupo. Bobby just wants it to look that way.”

Bobby twisted his cowboy hat. “I keep telling you guys Angela wasn’t really interested in me. Jeepers, it was just a joke.” He fumbled with his hat so much it toppled off his head.

“Now I’m really confused,” I admitted honestly as I finally began racking.

Kevin Cooper leaned over and handed Bobby his stupid hat. “Angela wasn’t going anywhere,” he told me.

Bobby swung around to Kevin. “How would you know?”

“I know a few things.” Kevin spoke quietly, but with certainty, and I wondered what else the Clarence cops knew that Wilson was keeping from me. For instance, you would think this road trip Fritz and Angela had planned would have been worthy of mention?

Avis Sage looked up from breaking. “I told the Fox to go along while he still could. Take it from the old man, Miss Tessie, have fun while you’re young.”

Speaking of having fun, Karen took a break from the dance floor about the time I won the match against Avis and was negotiating a new match against Bobby.

I swept by her. “Bobby,” I whispered.

She caught on. She held up a twenty and bet it on the wannabe cowboy, and Melissa wasted no time in wagering her own money on me. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she scolded Karen. “Betting against your friend.”

Karen said something about being loyal to her dance partner, and Bobby tipped his hat to her before handing it to Ethel.

Lo and behold, Bobby won the game. I reminded him that Melissa would like to play. While the two of them bickered about the details, I caught Karen’s eye and tilted my head toward Spencer.

We drifted over in his direction, but he didn’t even notice, since he was too busy watching Candy. She was still at the bar, deep in conversation with Mackenzie.

Karen stepped straight into his line of vision, and asked him point blank what a nice guy like him was doing in a place like the Wade On Inn.

“I like the music.”

“No, Spencer, I like the music.” She tapped his chest. “You don’t seem like the Wade On Inn type.”

“And these people do?” He waved toward the old ladies and Kevin.

“What are you doing here?” Karen asked again. “And don’t tell me it’s because of The Feeters.”

Okay, I just had to interrupt. “The Feeters?”

“Rupert and Bunny.” She pointed to the dance floor but kept her eye on Spencer. “I love their stuff.”

Karen and I stood in front of Spencer, arms folded, and pretended to comprise a formidable front.

He held up his hands in mock protest. “I just like it here, ladies. I like the company.”

Kevin Cooper guffawed. “What company you talking about?” he asked, and Spencer’s head snapped.

“All the company. I like everyone here.”

“Yeah, right.” Kevin took off his glasses to better smirk. “Your wife okay with that?”

Spencer hesitated and then spit it out. “Dixie and I are separated, if you must know.”

“She still footing your gambling bill?” Kevin asked, and I bit my lip. Why, oh why, was this cop provoking people? He was on the verge of blowing his cover, for Lord’s sake.

“Spence, honey.” Doreen tapped his bottom with her cane. “If Dixie ever cuts you off for good, you just call on me. Money, booze, sex? Name it and it’s yours.”

“Would you stop it with other women’s husbands, Doreen?” That was Ethel. She had decided to try on Bobby’s hat, and while everyone was busy laughing, Spencer escaped to the bar.

Chapter 13

Thank you, God, it was The Grateful Dead night at The Stone Fountain. We entered the bar just as Jerry Garcia was trucking home, back where he belonged.

I, too, would have felt at home, but Wilson was missing. I checked the booths, I checked the bar, I braced myself and checked the pool table. The good news? He wasn’t entwined with Tiffany thereupon. The bad news? He wasn’t there at all.

I declined a game with Kirby and took my seat at the bar between Candy and Karen. Lieutenant Densmore arrived just as Matthew’s new bartender Charlie located the Korbel.

“That goes on Captain Rye’s tab,” Russell instructed him.

“And where is Wilson?” I took my champagne from Charlie and turned to face the Lieutenant.

Russell backed up a step. “Umm,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Umm?”

“Is Wilson okay?” Candy asked.

Russell backed up even further, his eyes darting back and forth between the three of us. “As far as I know?” he said finally.

“Well then, where is he?” Karen demanded. “I’m tired, Russell. I need to go home.”

Charlie came back with her Corona and started pouring. “You guys looking for Captain Rye?” Russell was waving at him, but bless his oblivious heart, Charlie kept talking. “He was here earlier, Jessie. But they left a while ago.”

“They?” My voice was exceedingly calm. No, really.

“He and Tiffany,” Charlie chirped. “Actually, it was quite a while ago.” He handed Karen her glass and walked away.

I blinked at Russell over the top of my pince-nez.

“Umm,” he said.

I may have glared, but considered it undignified to inquire any further about my no-good, gallivanting, soon-to-be ex-beau, or Miss Tiffany La-Dee-Doo-Da Sass.

Russell must have noticed my self-restraint. He relaxed a bit and suggested we take a booth and chat.

Candy hopped down from her seat and said that gosh, she had a lot to report. Karen yawned and allowed Russell to steer her in the right direction. I grabbed the Korbel bottle and followed.

Once we got situated, he turned to me. “Are you okay, Jessie? You don’t look so good.”

“Watch it, Russell.”

Candy scolded me for scolding Russell. “I don’t think he meant it like that, Jessie.” She looked at the Lieutenant. “Did you?”

“Not at all,” he hastened to defend himself. “But I know you’re tired. The Captain appreciates how hard y’all are working.”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of Wilson Rye, the ever-appreciative, and Karen yawned yet again.

“I have got to go get some sleep,” she said. “Let me tell you what I learned so I can go home?” Lieutenant Densmore nodded, and she informed him she had worked on Bobby Decker and Henry Jack.

“Henry’s real excited by that Zion Tabernacle place,” she said. “He’s inspired by Pastor Muckenfuss.”

Russell grimaced. “That’s not good,” he said. “I’ve been checking into Muckenfuss.”

I asked what he had learned, but he ignored me and told Karen to continue.

“Don’t quote me on this,” she said. “But I’m pretty sure Henry’s got a crush on Elsa Quinn.”

“Why?”

“I asked him why he works at the Wade On Inn if he’s so worried about sin, and he said he owes it the Elsa. He’s worked there since way back before Lester Quinn got shot.” Karen offered each of us a meaningful glance. “He blames Fritz Lupo.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. Henry told me point blank Fritz Lupo was the one who should have died that night. His exact words.”

“I think I have something horrible to say.” Candy began chewing her knuckle.

“Go ahead,” Russell encouraged her.

“Well,” she sang. “Mackenzie thinks so, too.”

“Thinks so, too, what?” Karen asked.

“Mackenzie blames Fritz for her father’s death. She pretty much told me exactly what you just said, Karen. That Fritz should have died that night instead of Lester.” Candy worked on her poor knuckle. “She’s pretty mad about it.”

“How mad?” Russell asked suggestively.

“Oh, come on,” I protested. “I can’t believe that innocent child is a killer. She’s way too young to remember the night her father died, even if she was there.”

Candy spoke to her champagne glass. “Teenagers aren’t always so innocent, Jessie.”

I blinked twice. Candy Poppe knew from whence she spoke.

She continued, “When we were talking about the guys Angela liked, Mackenzie said Angela and Fritz were friends, but that she herself hated the guy.”

Karen interrupted and asked if she could finish up and go home.

Russell took out a notepad and jotted something down as he spoke. “Did Henry Jack give you anything else, Karen? Maybe on Elsa Quinn?”

“When I asked him if he and Elsa were involved, he got real nervous. He twirled me around kind of fast and we bumped into this woman who dances all by herself.”

“She falls down a lot, huh?” Candy said.

“It’s sad,” Karen agreed. “We had a heck of a time getting her back on her feet. Then the music changed to Chester Straney, and we got into a line dance. I lost track of Henry.”

“What about Bobby Decker?” Russell asked. “You danced with him, too?”

“Bobby was kind of interesting.” Karen took a sip of her beer.

I smiled at Russell and gestured towards my friend. “Tell Wilson he should hire this woman.”

“I’ll bring her an application tomorrow night.”

“No thanks.” She stifled another yawn. “Cops stay up way too late.”

“Bobby Decker?” Russell reminded her.

“He’s unemployed, but boy he has big dreams. He’s planning on buying back the Wade On Inn and all the property his great-grandfather lost to Elsa’s family and turning it into a ranch.”

“That explains the cowboy hat,” I said.

“But the guy’s broke, Jess. Like, completely.”

“So how does he think he can do this?” Candy asked.

“That’s just it, Kiddo. He can’t. But he says Elsa’s about to sell the place real cheap. Bobby’s sure the bank will be so impressed with this dude ranch idea that they’ll loan him gobs of money.” Karen yawned for good measure. “He also thinks his mother will be so proud of him she’ll move back to Clarence.”

“Is the mother an issue?” I asked.

“She is to Bobby.”

“Mrs. Decker moved to Charlotte a few years ago to be near her other son,” Russell informed us. “The one with a job, and a wife and children.”

Speaking of children, I had just spotted Tiffany Sass in the doorway. Tagging along behind her was my soon-to-be ex-beau.

***

Tiffany caught sight of us and smiled all pleasant-like. Wilson, on the other hand, took one look at the expression on my face and lost his grin.

Candy might have picked up on the tension, but poor Karen was too busy falling asleep to notice my love life unraveling before her half-open eyes.

Wilson glanced down at her. “Walk Ms. Sembler home?” he asked Russell.

Russell said it would be a pleasure, and the two of them departed as Wilson took the seat next to me. He then spoke to Tiffany. “You can head home, too, Sass. We’ve had a long day.”

I tried to ignore the implications of that unsettling statement. I also tried to ignore Tiffany, who lingered over me for who knows what reason.

“I like your seashell jewelry, Jessie.” The girl had yet to stop smiling. “Pinks and pastels suit you.”

Pinks and pastels suit me? I either smiled vaguely or curled my lip. Who really knows?

Candy mumbled something about it being her jewelry, and after an excruciating exchange of fashion tips between the two young women, Tiffany finally left.

This, of course, was when Wilson got around to noticing me. He sat back and took a long, hard gander at my outfit. Apparently he was not all that enamored with the seashells. I kicked him under the table, and he snapped out of it.

“Did you have an interesting evening?” he asked.

“Did you?” I asked back.

Wise-woman Candy Poppe interrupted us. “Karen did great tonight,” she told Wilson. He tore his frown from me as Candy reiterated what Karen had learned from Bobby and Henry.

“What’s the deal with Pastor Muckenfuss?” I asked. “Russell didn’t tell us.”

“Take the title ‘Pastor’ with a grain of salt. Theodore Muckenfuss is a high school dropout, has zero theological training, and has spent about half his life in jail.”

“How come he has his own church?” Candy asked.

“Take the word ‘church’ with a grain of salt, too,” Wilson said and explained that the Zion Tabernacle was located in an abandoned warehouse down the road from the Wade On Inn and very close to Hastie’s Diner. “The only thing Muckenfuss did to establish this church was stick a sign out front—a piece of plywood with a cross spray-painted on it.”

He shook his head. “He’s pulled this stunt before. He ran one of these pseudo-churches in New Orleans until Hurricane Katrina hit. Then he moved to Orlando.”

“What brought him here?” I asked.

“It’s more like what drove him out of Orlando. He hightailed it out of Florida after three teenagers in his congregation shot out the windows of a Jewish synagogue.”

Candy mumbled a “Gosh,” and I added an “Oh, my Lord.”

“Yep.” Wilson nodded. “Muckenfuss told those kids it was up to them to make their city safe for Christians.”

I cringed. “The guy’s an anti-Semite?”

“He’s anti-everyone, Jessie. From what Densmore’s gathered, Muckenfuss hates Jews, immigrants, gays, blacks, Catholics, Hispanics, Asians, working women. You name it.”

“Was Angela Hernandez an immigrant?” Candy asked.

“Second generation. And that’s a good question.”

I cringed again. “Are you suggesting Muckenfuss brainwashed Henry Jack into killing people because he disapproves of Hispanics?”