Rich Waters (Jason Rich), page 16
Though Bull didn’t miss the stress of trying to make ends meet, he did sometimes pine for the excitement of those days. As the owner and sometimes bouncer, he’d mill about, occasionally having a one-night stand with a recent divorcée or getting his own private peep show from some drunk college girls. They were mostly good times, he thought, as he passed through the back of the barn to the other side.
From here, he could see Hustleville Road and, in the distance, the lights flickering from the Alder Springs Grocery. Thirty yards to his right, there was still yellow crime scene tape covering a span of about ten feet where Sergeant Kelly Flowers had been shot and killed a month earlier.
Bull grabbed a lawn chair from inside the barn and brought it to within a few steps of the yellow tape. He set the case of beer on the grass and plopped down in the seat. He let out a loud belch and snatched another can of Miller Lite. He popped the top and took a long swig as a car buzzed by on Hustleville Road.
Since Branner’s Place had closed its doors, the barn and the space outside had served two additional purposes outside of storing hay and other crops. Of course, both of those uses had been suspended since Kelly Flowers’s death.
Bull crushed his can after finishing the beer and flung it on the ground. He cracked open another and stared over his shoulder at the barn. The facility had made an excellent place for storing methamphetamine and any other drugs that Tyson Cade was distributing. Bull took a long sip of beer, thinking about how easy it had been to lie to the lawyer. When your life depended on discretion, it was easy to stay quiet.
But Bull knew that storing drugs wasn’t the use that Tyson coveted most with his barn. He pressed against the chair, and its wobbly frame gave as he rose to his feet. He gazed up at the quarter moon and belched again. Then he stared at the yellow tape and drank down the rest of his beer.
His family’s legacy had become a place where drugs were sold. A meetup spot off the beaten path where a dealer could deliver his product and get paid. And where disagreements could be discussed and worked out . . .
. . . or not.
Bull sighed. Did he know why Kelly Flowers was here the night he was killed?
Hell yes, he did. But would he ever tell a living soul?
Bull grunted. Hell, no, I won’t.
34
Jason called Harry on his way back into town.
“I’ve got good news and bad news, J. R.”
“Let’s hear the good first,” Jason said, stepping on the accelerator as he ascended the Veterans Memorial Bridge.
“I have a pretty good read on Kevin Martin. K-Mart, as the kids at Guntersville High call him, lives in a mansion out on Buck Island. His family moved here two years ago, and he became very popular very fast. He’s a linebacker on the football team, has a four point oh grade average, and drives a black fully loaded Range Rover.” Harry paused. “But that’s not why he’s so popular.”
“Drugs?”
“Yep. The family moved in from Rochester, New York, after K-Mart was charged with a DUI and possession of marijuana. He ended up getting youthful offender status, so not on his public record.”
Jason didn’t even ask how Harry had discovered this information. If a kid was granted YO, then his record should’ve been sealed and confidential. But Harry Davenport was as resourceful as he was street smart. He was also persistent. These traits made him an outstanding investigator and a hell of a good friend. “So K-Mart moves into town; charms his classmates with his looks, smarts, and athletic ability; and then plugs into the local drug trade and becomes everyone’s source for their preferred vice.”
“That’s pretty much it.”
“Have you been able to establish a clear link with Cade?”
“No, and I don’t think I will. Cade is too slippery. I can connect K-Mart with a man named Matthew Dean. Dean owns a used-auto dealership in Boaz, and K-Mart has a quote unquote ‘job’ there. The thing is I’ve never seen him stay at the place longer than an hour.”
“So Dean is the link with Cade?”
“Possibly, but he’d probably cut off all his fingers and toes before he’d tell us.”
“Follow him, Harry. We need to track the chain all the way to Cade.”
“What’s the goal here, J. R.?”
“To have something . . . anything . . . on Cade that we can use for leverage. He’s blackmailing me with Chase and Nola’s drug use, and I’m tired of playing defense.”
“What you are playing is a dangerous game with a professional. We investigate lawsuits and criminal cases, Jason. Not drug dealers in the hopes of blackmailing them. We need to stay in our lane, or we are going to end up being run off the road. Do you feel me?”
Jason punched the steering wheel with his fist, thinking back to the meeting with Bull Branner. The barrel of a man was hiding something, and it was likely because Cade had something on him too. “Yes, Harry. I feel you. But I have to do something.”
“You are doing something. You’re representing Trey Cowan. You’re practicing law, which you are damn good at doing. But you’re not a cowboy, and no amount of shooting lessons with crazy-ass Satch Tonidandel is going to make you Wyatt Earp.”
Jason sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. It was no use arguing. Besides, as usual, Harry was right. “You said you had bad news.”
There was a pause, and for a moment, Jason thought he’d lost service.
“Harry?” Jason asked, looking out over Lake Guntersville as the sun made its final descent under the clouds. “Harry?”
“Still here,” he finally said.
“What’s the bad news?”
“I’m sorry, Jason.”
“Just spit it out.”
“Nola’s still using,” he said. “I saw her buy drugs off of K-Mart.”
“Good grief,” Jason said, gritting his teeth.
“It gets worse.”
“How is that possible?”
Another pause. “Harry?”
“I can’t be a hundred percent but . . .”
“Harry?”
“. . . I think she’s dating the bastard.”
35
Jason was seething as he entered the Old Town Stock House. Nola had lied to him. In Perdido and every day since. She had said she was done with K-Mart. With meth. But it had all been an act. Seeing Chase’s predicament had done nothing to sway her from using.
Jason saw Kisha, who waved him over to her table, which was located behind the bar in the back. As he moved through the restaurant, he glanced at the columns of liquor bottles and the draft beer taps and, not for the first time in the last thirty days, felt a craving himself. He knew he shouldn’t be upset with Nola. If his niece was an addict, and it sounded like she was, then she had lost control of her ability to stop. Just like I had, Jason knew.
And the struggle never ended.
Jason forced a smile and tried to clear his thoughts as he sat down across from the couple. “Well . . . what are we celebrating?”
“A free dinner,” Kisha said, giggling and flashing her teeth. Both women had glasses of wine in front of them, and based on their eyes and demeanor, it appeared that they might be on their second round.
Teresa opened her mouth in mock anger and lightly flicked Kisha on her shoulder. “Our anniversary,” she said. “It was actually last week, but we’re late celebrating.”
“Congratulations,” Jason said, holding out his fist, which each woman nudged with her own. “I hate to be crashing your party.”
“It’s . . . OK,” Teresa said, shooting Kisha a glance that told Jason that it probably wasn’t.
“I’ve been trying to set up a meeting,” Jason said, holding out his palms to Teresa as a waitress came over and asked him what he wanted to drink.
“Diet Coke,” he said. Then, turning back to Teresa: “This won’t take a minute, I promise, and I will pay for your dinner.”
“I was kidding about you buying, Jason,” Kisha said.
“You didn’t sound like you were joking,” Jason teased, looking from his old friend to Teresa. “Just a few questions.”
“Shoot,” Teresa said.
“When we spoke on my sister Jana’s case, you said that Trey was a regular at the Brick. I’m assuming that hadn’t changed leading up to the murder.”
“You assume right. If anything, Trey was coming more often and staying later.” She frowned at him. “And drinking more. Much more.”
“Was something bothering him?”
Teresa rolled her eyes. “Isn’t this something you should be asking him?”
“He said he failed a baseball tryout with the Barons.”
“I didn’t know about that. All he told me about was his breakup with Colleen.”
“Colleen Maples,” Jason said, nodding. She had been a pivotal witness in his sister’s trial. She hadn’t cooperated with Jason then, and she wasn’t being agreeable now. Izzy had not had any luck arranging a meeting or even a phone call with the nurse anesthetist.
“Why did they break up?”
“Trey never said much. Just that they never made sense to begin with.” She shrugged. “Can’t say he was wrong there.”
“Does Colleen ever come into the Brick?”
“A couple of times with Trey,” Teresa said. “None since the breakup.”
“What about Kelly Flowers? Did he come in much?”
“Usually only when Trey was there. A few times, when Trey wasn’t there, he’d ask me if I’d seen him.”
Jason felt a tickle of interest. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Trey and Kelly went to high school together and were teammates on the football team. I assumed they were friends.”
“Had you ever seen them get into an argument before April 8?”
“Not really. A few times, I saw Kelly talking to Trey and Trey not saying a whole lot.” She took a sip of wine. “But I didn’t think much of that, because Trey wasn’t a big talker.”
Jason took out his phone and thumbed a few notes of what she had said.
“I saw Kelly only one time with someone other than Trey. It was about two weeks before he died.”
“Who?”
“A woman. She looked kind of familiar, but I didn’t recognize her. I’d never seen her inside the restaurant before.”
“Describe her,” Jason asked.
“Dirty-blonde hair. Short hair. She’d come in for a couple of beers just before closing time, and Kelly had sat down next to her.”
Jason felt a rush of heat run through his body. He sucked in a quick breath and wiped his forehead.
“You OK?” Teresa asked.
“But you didn’t recognize her?” Jason asked, thinking as fast as he could. Had he ever taken Chase to the Brick? Had he ever been around Kisha or Teresa with Chase? Since Jana’s death, he had laid pretty low. He and Chase had normally eaten at one of their houses, or occasionally, they took the Sea-Doo to the Docks in Scottsboro. Chase was a homebody who didn’t like to go out. No, Jason thought, answering his own question. He probably had told Kisha, his longtime friend, about Chase, but she had never met her. And he was quite certain that he’d never been around Teresa with Chase.
But the woman she just described . . . Maybe he was being silly. Short dirty-blonde hair wasn’t much to go on.
“Can you tell me anything else about her?”
Teresa took another sip of wine and pressed a thumb to her chin. “Well, there’s one other thing, and I’m not sure why I remember it.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m pretty sure her name was Savannah,” Teresa said. “Like the city. I thought that was interesting.”
Jason had stopped breathing. “Her first name?”
“Yeah,” Teresa said. “I can’t remember her last.”
Jason finally exhaled. Savannah Chase Wittschen . . . He had always teased Chase with her first name because he knew she hated it.
“Did you tell the police about the woman with Kelly Flowers? This . . . Savannah?”
Teresa squinted. “I’m pretty sure I told Detective Daniels.”
Jason looked down at the table as the waiter set a Diet Coke on a coaster next to him. He grabbed the glass and drank half of it down, grimacing to keep from burping. He’d gone through Hatty Daniels’s investigative report and all of the witness interviews, including the one with Teresa, at least a dozen times, and there was no mention of a woman that Kelly Flowers had left the bar with two weeks prior to his death.
An oversight? Jason wondered. Or maybe Daniels didn’t think it was important.
Jason took a smaller sip of his drink as Kisha and Teresa ordered their food. Old Town Stock House had the best steaks around, and both of them ordered the fillet.
“Nothing for me,” Jason said to the waiter. He looked at Teresa and then Kisha. “I’ve already taken up too much of your time.” Jason’s heart was pounding. Unless Chase Wittschen had a look-alike with the same first name or Teresa was lying, neither of which seemed plausible, Chase was having drinks with Sergeant Flowers and leaving the bar with him two weeks before he was killed.
Jason felt an odd mixture of anger, jealousy, and fear coupling with shock. He needed to get out of there, but he had one more question.
“Kisha, I asked you about Sergeant Daniels not being at the prelim, and you hesitated and said you’d talk to me tonight. Do you know why she wasn’t there or anything else about her?”
Kisha glanced at Teresa, who shook her head.
“What I know isn’t relevant to the case.”
“Kisha, no,” Teresa said.
“Can you please let me decide what’s relevant?” Jason asked.
Kisha looked at Teresa, and finally the bartender looked away. “Whatever,” Teresa said.
“Every once in a while, T and I will go into Huntsville. We like to shop at Bridge Street and have dinner and a movie. There’s a bar over there that we like to go to called Envy. Nice place.” She paused. “It’s not a gay bar, but it is LGBTQ+ friendly. We like the vibe. The live music is cool, and we can dance and let loose.”
“That’s great,” Jason said. “But what does that have—”
“We’ve seen Sergeant Daniels there a couple times,” Teresa snapped. “Once alone and once with another woman.”
“Did you say hello?”
“Yes,” Kisha said. “She was pretty freaked out when she saw us. She asked that we not say anything about seeing her.”
“And we just broke our promise,” Teresa said.
Jason leaned back in his chair. “So you saw her? So what? Haven’t we moved far enough into the twenty-first century where Sergeant Daniels’s sexual orientation, whatever it may be, shouldn’t be relevant?”
Kisha looked at him like he might be a first grader. “Jason, this is Marshall County. It’s one of the most conservative places in America. Our relationship flies under the radar. I report the news for the Gleam, and Teresa is a bartender. Our jobs are anything but high profile.”
“But Sergeant Daniels is in the news all the time,” Teresa said. “She’s a public figure, and she’s told us that she would love to be sheriff one day.”
“I see,” Jason said, feeling dumb. “So why are you telling me this?”
“Because I do think it’s weird that Hatty wasn’t at the hearing today,” Kisha said, and she sounded genuinely concerned. “This is her case. I can’t think of a reason she would leave, so . . .”
“You think she’s come out to her colleagues?”
“Maybe,” Teresa said, but Kisha was shaking her head.
“What do you think?” Jason asked his old friend.
Kisha leaned forward. “I think someone in the department may have seen her like we did. Except maybe in a more compromised position. Maybe they’ve threatened to reveal her secret? Or perhaps Hatty is scared about it and needs some time.”
“It sounds like you know her pretty well,” Jason said.
“I admire her a lot,” Kisha said. “A smart, kick-ass Black woman in a field dominated by good ole boys. When I first joined the Gleam, she was always cooperative with interviews and seemed to enjoy the fact that I was so openly gay.”
“Jealous, more like it,” Teresa said.
“Maybe that too,” Kisha admitted.
Jason rubbed his neck. His brain was scrambled. Part of him was still thinking about Chase meeting Kelly Flowers. The other part was trying to glean whether any of this information about Sergeant Hatty Daniels, however interesting it might be, was helpful. He stood from the table. “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure.”
Kisha stood with him. “Jason, please be discreet with what we’ve told you.”
“I will,” he said. “I promise.”
He kissed Kisha’s cheek and gave Teresa a wave. “Now . . . I want you to enjoy your anniversary dinner.”
Before leaving the restaurant, Jason caught up to Kisha and Teresa’s waiter and had her run his card for their meal. “Make sure they order dessert and give yourself twenty-five percent,” he said.
Then he left the restaurant, walking in a daze toward his Porsche. He hopped in and fired up the sports car. After letting the engine rev for a full minute, Jason finally couldn’t handle the emotions swirling inside of him.
“Fuck!” he screamed, squeezing the wheel until his wrists hurt. He had thought things couldn’t get much worse after Jana’s death, but they had. He was a failure. As a guardian to Nola. As a friend to Chase. About all that had gone well was his law practice, but that was mostly due to Izzy’s legwork and the verdict he’d obtained for Jana. A miracle, Jason thought, putting the car in gear. As he turned onto Gunter Avenue, he felt frustration and hate building within him.
