Saints and Sinners, page 5
part #1 of Jessie St James Adventures Series
9
A rush of relief flooded Jessie’s body the instant her mother and aunt were free of the island. Though she was loath to admit it, she had to imagine her father might have felt something like that if she had decided to leave, too. She couldn’t blame the man for wanting her to be safe, but she also hoped he couldn’t blame her for wanting to do her job. This was her case, her responsibility. That was why she also hoped that her father would understand why she was on this side of the island, walking into a place like this, at this hour of the night.
Sanibel Island was a paradise of a place. It was perfect for tourists looking for a respite from their hectic lives. It was great for young families searching for a piece of the Floridian dream, and it was awesome for singles who wanted to let their hair down and have some fun while also working hard. That didn’t mean Sanibel didn’t have a less than savory side. It absolutely did, and the fact that Jessie found herself on that side tonight was a testament to how little she knew about Fallon Walker since her brother died.
As Jessie walked into the Angry Bussell, a bar that was more hard-edged than she cared to think about, Jessie thought about her brother’s old girlfriend. When she knew Fallon, the woman wanted to be a doctor. She had aspirations of helping people, of performing surgeries and curing diseases. What she had learned since her investigation on Fallon began was that the late woman had never quite made it to medical school. In fact, starting last September, she’d never made it past working as a waitress at this dingy and troublesome establishment. So, as Jessie sauntered up to the bar dressed in a red skirt and matching heels, she bit her lower lip and wondered what went wrong in Fallon’s life to turn her from a would-be doctor to a struggling barkeep.
The music floating through the bar, Hank Williams Junior, if Jessie wasn’t mistaken, wasn’t nearly loud enough to mask the sounds of drunk people screaming at each other or bottles smashing on the floor. Jessie had been in here all of a minute and a half, and she already felt like she needed a shower.
“What can I get you, dearie?” a woman behind the bar asked. She had tight blonde curls and a face that looked like it had seen too much time in the sun. But she also had a kind voice, and the way she leaned into Jessie made her think that the woman wanted to make her feel safe. She knew how rare that was, and given the fact that she hadn’t come here to make enemies and that she needed information, Jessie didn’t see any reason not to lean right back into the woman and give her exactly what it sounded like she wanted.
“From the looks of things, a can of mace doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” she said, looking at the woman and grinning.
“You gotta stay on your toes in this place. I’ll give you that much. I’m Wanda,” the woman said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and popping the top off a beer with the side of the bar. “Here. You can nurse this until one of the Romeos here decides they want to buy you something fancier.”
“Thank you,” Jessie said, grabbing the beer and setting it in front of her, though she was careful not to actually take a swig. It wasn’t that she couldn’t have used the drink, but she was technically on the clock, and even if she wasn’t, this wasn’t the kind of place where Jessie wanted to lose control of her faculties. “I’m not really here for Romeos.”
“Juliets, then?” Wanda asked. “I’m sure you’d be popular with them too.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Jessie said. “I’m not looking for romance tonight, not looking for fun, either. I’m here to ask some questions about a friend of mine, and I think some people around here might know her.”
“Not to give you too much credit, sweetie, but you don’t look like the type of girl who’d be friends with anyone who hung out here,” Wanda said, eyeing her up and down.
“I clean up nice, doesn’t mean anything other than that,” Jessie said. “I was wondering about Fallon Walker.”
A rush of shock colored Wanda’s face, her eyes widening for just an instant before she got a grip on herself and tried to pretend like Jessie's request hadn’t just set something off in her. “Now why the hell would you want to ask me about Fallon Walker? She hasn’t shown up for work in days. Other than that, I’m not sure what else I can tell you.”
“She hasn’t shown up because she’s dead. Of course, I’m guessing from the look on your face when I brought her up that you know at least a little more about that than you’re letting on.”
Wanda leaned in further, her weathered face practically turning to stone. “You look like a good person, a little pampered but good, nevertheless. Trust me when I tell you that whatever happened to Fallon Walker is best left alone. It’s not a road you want to go down.”
“Except that I don’t really have a choice,” she said. Pulling her badge from the matching red purse slung over her shoulder, she showed it to Wanda.
“Damnit. You’re a cop,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I swear, you people keep showing up like this and I’m going to have to start carding.”
“Keep?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Who else has been here? What kind of questions were they asking?”
Before she could get an answer, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She was fully prepared to ignore it, but the fingers responsible wrapped around her shoulder, spinning her on her stool. In front of her stood a tall, gangly man with slicked back blond hair and a gold tooth where his right incisor should have been.
“Hey there, beautiful. Let me buy you a—”
“Not interested,” she said, pulling his arm off and trying to spin back around on the stool. As the seat caught, sticking in place, she saw this loser was holding it with his free hand. He placed his other back on her shoulder, smiling at her in a way that nearly made her physically sick.
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said. “I could have said I wanted to buy you a car. I might have said I was going to buy you a house or take you on a vacation to the Greek Isles.”
“Seeing as how we’re in a dive bar, my guess is that you wanted to buy me a drink,” Jessie said. “And because you seem cliché, you probably would think I’m cliché too and offer to treat me to something like a cosmopolitan or martini. You might even feel like you’re being funny and order a sex on the beach. Either way, I’m not interested. And just to make myself completely clear, no number of houses or Greek islands is gonna change that.” She looked at his fingers pressed into her shoulder. “Now get your hands off me.”
To say this creep was unaffected by her refusal would have been a colossal understatement. He didn’t even seem to hear it. His hand still sat there on Jessie’s shoulder. If anything, it tightened. He did move his other hand from the stool, bringing it up toward her leg.
“Nope. Not gonna happen,” Jessie said through clenched teeth.
“Just relax. Trust me. You’ll like it,” the man said disgustingly.
Jessie clenched the neck of the still full beer bottle and swung it forward. It collided with the man’s head, sending shards of dark glass everywhere. The creep yelped and stumbled backward, giving Jessie enough time to hop off the stool.
Grabbing his head, the man checked for blood. Finding none, he looked back over at Jessie. Eyes that were once filled with longing now housed only anger. “You’re gonna pay for that!” he yelled, running toward her with his head down like he was a bull and she was the matador, complete with the red dress to act as the cape and everything.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jessie said, spinning around on her heels. Moving at the last minute, Jessie watched the man slam into the bar, yelling again as he hit the wood and metal. “I need you to understand something,” Jessie said, punching the man hard in the jaw and then, as he fell back a little, in the throat as well. He gasped for breath as Jessie lifted a foot and kicked him hard in the chest. He fell backward, tripping over the errant stool and landing hard on the floor below. “When a woman says no, which I’m sure is something you hear a lot of,” she said, giving him a kick in the gut just for good measure, “It means no. Keep that in mind. Otherwise, I’m coming back for you.” She kicked him again. “And you will be buying me a drink, the one I smashed over your head. Did you hear that, Wanda? The drink’s on him.”
Jessie turned to see Wanda gone. Looking toward the back door, she saw the woman running out of it, obviously trying to get away from her.
“Damn,” Jessie muttered, running after her.
10
Jessie pushed through the back door, following in Wanda’s footsteps. This wasn’t like her. Though Jessie had only been a full-fledged officer for a few weeks now, letting a suspect she was questioning slip through her fingers wasn’t like her. She was observant. She always had been. Of course, putting a handsy creep in his place had stolen much of her attention tonight, and though she had little doubt the women who came in contact with that bastard in the future would thank her, she felt like a fool for finding herself in this position.
“Stop!” Jessie yelled, whipping her red heels off and leaving them strewn across the pavement of the back parking lot of the bar. She couldn’t run in those damn things, and since function had always trumped fashion in her book, this was a pretty painless decision.
Wanda didn’t stop. She rushed across the darkened parking lot, shuffling as quickly as she could toward a row of beat-up looking cars at the far end of the lot. The older woman was fast, but not fast enough to outrun Jessie. She slammed into the rusted brown car an instant after Wanda, who was fumbling for her keys.
“I don’t want anything to do with this!” Wanda said, shaking her head hard and rummaging through her purse. “I told you, this doesn’t have anything to do with me. I told her not to get involved with him. She sat there on that very same stool you were just on not two weeks ago, and I told her that she would end up dead if she didn’t stop.”
Jessie blinked hard, her muscles tightening in anticipation as she continued.
“What are you talking about, Wanda? What was Fallon involved in? What wouldn’t she stop?” Jessie’s words were frantic, and in the forefront of her mind, she saw flashes of the way Fallon used to be, a bright young girl with an even brighter future, a girl who had Nate on her arm.
“I don’t know,” Wanda said. “Look, I’ve told you everything I know, everything I can, anyway. I’m not interested in dying like Fallon, of ending up washed up on the shore like some beached whale.”
“You did know, then,” Jessie surmised. “When I came in tonight, you knew Fallon was dead.”
“Of course, I knew,” Wanda said, her voice shaking. “I knew the minute she didn’t call me back the other night that she was probably dead.” Tears started to spill from Wanda’s eyes. “She was a good girl, you know. She had been through a lot, and she was worse for wear from it, but aren’t we all? She was going to be a doctor, that girl. She wanted to help people.” Her voice cracked, and she took a deep breath. “Deep down in her heart, all she ever wanted was to help people. And look at how it ended up. She died alone and cold, probably scared as hell, and all because she wanted to help.”
“Help who?” Jessie asked, as confused as she had ever been. “Listen, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I need you to calm down and trust me about that. Whatever Fallon got herself into that you believe led to her death, it’s important that I know about it. I’m a cop. It’s what I do.”
“Don’t give me that,” Wanda said. “If any of you were worth your salt, I wouldn’t have to tell you about this and you know it. You’re supposed to protect us, right? That’s what cops do, but people like me and Fallon never got much in the way of protection . . . from the police or anyone else.”
“Look, I don’t what your life has looked like, ma’ am. I’m sure it’s had its hardships. But I did know Fallon. I grew up with her. Her parents, her entire family, would have done anything for her,” Jessie said.
“Yeah, until she disappoints them one time too many.” Wanda scoffed. “You might have grown up with her, sweetheart, but I’m the one who actually knew her, who knew what kind of person she was before she died. “ Wanda shook her head again, and Jessie could see that her mind was somewhere else. “Did you know that her parents threw her out last year? It was right around Christmas. She was talking about going back to med school in the spring, about maybe becoming a veterinarian. She slipped up one time at a party, though. Some of her old friends were there, the friends from the bad times. They offered her some of that crap she used to take, the stuff that really got her messed up. She knew she shouldn’t have taken it, but she’d had a really long day. Or at least, that’s what she told me. When her folks found out, they put her ass on the streets. Suddenly, she had rent and food to worry about in addition to her recovery. Med school went out the window.”
“That’s . . . that’s horrible,” Jessie said. “But it doesn’t explain why she died and it doesn’t answer who she got involved with.”
“I can’t say,” Wanda said, swallowing hard. “I know you’re just trying to do your job, and I get that all you want to do is get a killer off the streets, but I can’t put myself in danger like that.”
“You said you’re not carding,” Jessie muttered.
“What?” Wanda asked.
“When you found out that I was a cop, you said you were going to have to start carding people,” Jessie continued. “I’m assuming that means that you don’t regularly. You know what the law is. As a small business owner, I’m sure you’re aware that in the great state of Florida, you’re required to see identification from any and every person who buys alcohol. So, let me ask you a question, Wanda. If I go in there and check the IDs of every person who has a beer in front of them, do you think I’ll find at least one underage person? Cause the ginger guy with the freckles sitting three stools down from me looked all of fifteen. Or even if I don’t , and let’s say ginger guy is forty-five years old, do you think I’ll find at least one person with no ID or even an expired one? I’m pretty sure I will, and I’m also pretty sure that would be enough to fine you, maybe shut you down for a bit and get you on the health inspector’s radar enough so that your professional life will be a living hell from now on.”
“This is why I hate cops,” Wanda murmured. “Just tell me what you want.”
“I want to know what Fallon was up to? I want to know why you think she died,” Jessie said.
“She was running drugs, okay?” Wanda blurted out. “She never took any of them after that last trip up where she got thrown out of her parents’ house, but for the last few weeks, Fallon was making deliveries for a very dangerous man.”
“Oh, God,” Jessie replied. “Why would she do that? Were things that rough for her?”
“I pay all my girls as much as I can, but times are tough all over, and everything is expensive these days,” Wanda said. “But no. I got the feeling this wasn’t about money. Fallon was talking about making everything right. I didn’t ask her as many questions as I should have, because honestly, I didn’t want to be involved. I think she was trying to do the right thing, though.”
“By selling drugs?” Jessie asked. “How on earth could that be the right thing?”
“Because she wasn’t doing it alone,” Wanda said. “You see, I’m pretty sure Fallon was undercover. I think she was trying to help bring this drug ring down from the inside, and I think she worked directly with the chief of police.”
“The chief of police?” Jessie asked, her heart dropping as she realized that if Wanda was right, it meant her father was wrapped up in all of this too.
11
Jessie marched back into the living room of her house with her heart in her throat. After getting everything she could from Wanda, her head was spinning. She was a good judge of character, and even though she had only been a detective for a short time, her previous role as an assistant district attorney had helped her hone the skills necessary to know when someone was lying. That’s what made all of this so strange.
She read Wanda as soon as she saw her, as soon as the grizzled older woman told her that Fallon was working with the police. Wanda wasn’t lying, and that meant that either she was mistaken about Fallon’s role in things or her father had been keeping her in the dark about an extremely important aspect of Fallon’s life. Both were losing propositions. If Wanda was wrong, then it meant she was back to square one with Fallon. If she was right, though, it meant her father had lied to her and she wasn’t as good at spotting untruths as she thought, At least where her own family was concerned.
Jessie heard noise coming from the kitchen. Steadying herself, she headed that way. Though she was at a loss for who could have been with her father, given the fact that her mother and Aunt Paula were off the island, she could tell that the person conversing with her dad was a man. It didn’t particularly sound like Roman, though in truth, Jessie had done much to block out most things about that egomaniac. What was more, it was probably better if it was Roman. If he didn’t already know about Fallon’s possible connection to a drug investigation, then he would need to soon. And if he did already know, then he and Jessie’s father needed to be ready for a Grade-A chewing out.
“Dad, we need to talk,” Jessie said, entering the kitchen and huffing loudly. As she looked around, she saw her father standing at the kitchen island, a beer in his hand and a light smile on his face. The man who stood on the other side of the island, though, wasn’t Roman. It was a man in his mid-fifties with a bald head and a trimmed white beard. He had a canned cola in his hand and a smile on his face that matched her father’s. More than that, he seemed comfortable with her father, and that struck Jessie as odd.
Her father didn’t get off the island much, and that meant that most of the people he knew and who knew him were islanders. Jessie knew the faces of just about every person on Sanibel Island, and she had never known her father to be this chummy with tourists. So, how on earth did he know this man?
“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?” Jessie asked with arched eyebrows.
