Checkered Past (A Laurel London Mystery Book 2) (11 page)

My plan for tonight wasn’t going as planned. Maybe getting drunk needed to be in the plan to get all of this straightened out in my head. Willie was in front of me and Jax to the right of me; while Antonio did everything he could to cop a feel when he wasn’t in the bathroom.

“Eric has some good leads he is going to follow up on.” Jax looked around before he placed his warm, soft hand on top of mine. “I’m not sure what is going on here, but I thought there was something. . .”

“I did too.” I batted my eyes when I saw Antonio walk out of the bathroom. I snuggled a little closer to Jax, hoping to trigger a little jealousy in Antonio. “But your friend came into town, the FBI is here and I’m not sure you believe I don’t know Willie Ray Bowman.”

“I want to believe you, but there are so many facts.” Jax brushed a strand of my hair behind my shoulder. Normally, I’d be all over his attentiveness, but I had to get Willie Ray out of here. I tilted my chin to the side, letting his hand brush up against it. “As a former agent, I’m always looking for the facts in life.”

I looked at Antonio from over Jax’s shoulder, giving him the help me look hoping he’d distract Jax so Willie could slip out.

“Get your hands off my girl!” Antonio stormed across the floor and shoved Jax off the bar stool.

Jax reared back to give Antonio a solid punch, swung, and hit him square in the jaw.

The Holy Rollers turned and I swear their dentures were going to fall right on out of their mouths. Norma Allen, the cranker for the Holy Rollers, dropped her ball down on her toe. She hopped around on one bowling shoe and held her foot with her hand.

“You better watch it or you are going to break a hip!” Sharon Fasa warned Norma.

“You asshole!” Antonio went head first into Jax’s gut, sending them both against the wall.

“Do something!” Sheila screamed from behind the bar, grabbing a billy club and smacking the bar top with it. She used her other hand to usher out Willie through the doors behind the bar, which led to the offices where she and Bud did all the business transactions for Lucky Strikes.

She smacked the bar again and smiled at me. I gave her the thumbs up because we had pulled it off. It couldn’t have gone any better if I had planned the whole thing out.

“What in the hell is going on?” Derek came out of nowhere and grabbed Antonio by the neck of his shirt, stretching it even bigger than it already was.

Alex and Adam Fiddle, the twins of Fiddle and Sons Meats, in their Here For The Beer bowling shirts with their bowling bags in hand, stood next to the bar taking it all in.

Antonio and Jax were like two dogs stuck together and Derek was the fire hose. It took a few minutes, but Derek managed to get them apart. His chest heaved up and down, both his arms stuck straight out to the side.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you two don’t get your shit together, I’ll haul you both down to the Walnut Grove lockup and leave you there over night.” Derek looked between them. He glanced over at me. I gave him the I-don’t-know-open-eyes, lifted brow look.

Jax wiped the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. His eyes hooded through his thick brows. He glared at Antonio, who seemed to forget about the whole thing. He had already walked over to the bar where Sheila put his big plate of nachos next to his beer.

“I’m not going to bowl with that beast here.” Jax’s face held deep disgust.

“I’m not going to stay if he doesn’t stay,” I protested, knowing my little scheme would be over before next week and we would all be copacetic. “Maybe we should take off this week and let everyone cool down.”

“Fine with me.” Jax held his hands in the air and walked out of the bowling alley.

We all watched him throw the door open and then watched it slam shut.

“I think everyone is on edge due to Sally’s death and Willie’s escape.” I grabbed my beer and took another drink. “I’ll see ya.” I tapped Antonio on the back.

My plan with him was done and had gone better than I had even thought.

“Wait!” he yelled with a mouth full of nachos. “I need a ride back to my car. I’ve got to work in the morning!”

“Where is your car?” Derek asked.

“Let’s go.” I rushed Antonio along and avoided looking at the sour cream gathered in the corners of his mouth like spit.

“I’m parked at K-Mart.” Antonio swirled his tongue around his lips, not missing a drop of food.

“K-Mart?” Derek questioned, stopping me in my tracks. His practical masculine eyes took in everything, including my reaction.

“Yeah,” I tugged on Antonio. “Time to go.”

“Where do you work?” For Derek’s amusement, he continued to ask questions keeping us there.

“I work for the state of Kentucky in the corrections facility,” he announced with pride.

“The where?” I asked.

“He works for the prison system.” Derek turned to him and asked, “Which one?”

“Le Grange. On the outskirts of Louisville.” Antonio held up his beer and drank the last swig. “Ah. That’s good stuff.” He pushed the bottle closer to Sheila who was taking it all in.

“Okay. Ready?” I encouraged him to get out of there.

“I can take him to his car.” Derek grinned. “I’m not in a hurry and I bet you got time for another beer since we aren’t bowling.” He stood there, simply looking at me. “Another round, Sheila.”

“Coming up!” She twisted around and headed to the beer cooler to retrieve their bottles.

“Fine.” My chin jutted out. I wasn’t going to win this one against Derek. My only hope was Antonio didn’t blow my plan.

These days I didn’t know who was working for whom. Derek said he was going to let the FBI handle the whole situation with Willie as long as I stayed out of it. By the look on his face, he knew I wasn’t staying out of it.

“I’m out.” I grabbed my hobo bag and strapped it around me.

“Laurel,” Antonio’s face contorted. “I’m not interested in you. So this is so long. Au revior. Adios. Sayonara baby.” He cackled. “You hear a lot of shit like that in prison.”

“Laurel.” Derek stopped me. No doubt to rub more salt in the wound. “Be at the docks tomorrow morning around six thirty for community service.”

“Are you shitting me?” I had hoped with all the goings-on around Walnut Grove, Derek would’ve forgotten all about the little bank trespassing incident.

“I’d never shit you.” He grinned pulling his beer up to his lips. “You’re my favorite turd.”

I rolled my eyes and walked on out. The sun was still beating down making the humidity hang in the air. The only place of relief that was close was the library. I had a few hours to kill and I had a burning curiosity about the London family history.

Chapter Twelve

Walnut Grove Library was down on Third Street in an old Victorian home. The Chamber had spent a lot of time and effort in making the three-story library a good place for learning and reading.

It was very interesting. The old family room was made into the mystery section, the kitchen was made into the non-fiction section, the sitting room was made into romance leaving all the Victorian furniture in there for ambiance. Each room of the old home had a specific literary theme. It was fun to browse. Donna Marple, the librarian, had even put in a coffee bar with a Keurig machine and all the fixins’.

My main interest was in the attic portion of the home where they had hooked up two dinosaur computers from the Goodwill and had me come in to work on them since I was easily the best in town at fixing (hacking into) computers. It was out of my nature to help, but Trixie insisted.

I pulled in front of the library; thankful it looked to be empty. The only mode of transportation I saw was Donna Marple’s bicycle with the basket on the front.

“Laurel, I wondered when you were going to come back in.” She pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. Her big blue eyes magnified under them.

I never understood why she wore the long dresses, not even maxi style, but the long ugly ones from the eighties. There was a cute body under there. I had seen it several times down on the river when we would head down for a swim like all the other locals.

She always had the prettiest blond hair and pale skin. Today her hair was in a topknot on the top of her head. A few loose pieces fell down around her shoulders, in a kind of messy bed head way and it looked pretty good on her. It would take Kim Banta hours to get my hair to look that effortless. Her face was still pale, probably from never getting her nose out of a book and out into the sun.

“I found some information for you about Trigger Finger Tony and his family.” She plunked a stack of papers on the reference counter, which were really two card tables put together. “I ordered in some other books from the Library Association.” She put a pencil in her mouth and continued to talk. “They won’t be here until next week.”

“Okay.” I was a little disappointed. The other books I had asked her to get were specifically about crime families in the New York City area around the time The Gorilla had taken over.

“Let me get you a cup of coffee while you browse those.” She hurried back to the credenza where a chalkboard hung above it with the words
Coffee Bar
printed across it in red.

I sat down at one of the old student desks and thumbed through the papers. It wasn’t anything I already hadn’t learned about the relationship between Trigger Finger Tony and my family. Trigger Finger’s father and my grandfather had made a deal to combine forces. All sorts of money were exchanged along with a pair of rings. Long story short, I was the keeper of the rings, therefore, I had inherited the millions of blood money. Most of it was in a safe place with Ben Bassman and some was in the floor of the orphanage. I was scared to use it, in case it was marked or somehow traced back to my family, but Trixie insisted it was due to me for them sticking me in an orphanage my whole life.

The idea of running a mob family did sound exciting, only my grandfather felt I wasn’t safe after my parents had been gunned down right in front of him. The blame fell on Trigger Finger’s family, ending the cease-fire leaving millions of dollars in the lurch. Luckily when Trigger Finger came to town, I was able to get him sent to prison for illegal firearms smuggling.

When Trigger Finger spouted out all sorts of crazy notions that I belong to the biggest mob family in history, everyone had thought he’d lost his mind and has been in solitary confinement ever since. And I was glad no one ever questioned me.
No one but Donna Marple.

“I find it so interesting you looking up this information since Trigger Finger had said you were part of that world.” She put the coffee down in front of me. “Right?”

“Right. Thanks.” I took a drink of the welcomed coffee. If I was going to meet Willie at midnight, I was going to need something to keep me awake.

“And I thought you might find this interesting.” She flipped through the papers until she got to one where The Gorilla was holding a baby. “It’s the only article I could find with a mere mention of family.”

The caption read: “The Gorilla holding an infant, believed to be a member of the London family.”

With the research, I was hoping to get information about employees or anyone my grandfather could have paid off. The money belonged to the families he hurt and somehow I wanted to pay them back. I’d never tell Trixie or Ben because they would be against me.

“If we count back to when this photo was taken, the baby would be about our age.” Donna curled up on her white lace-up tennis shoes as pleased as a pearl. “I wonder if she lives in New Jersey and has all his millions, but no one knows it’s her.”

“Gee, I wonder,” I said in a monotone voice still looking at the picture.

If this was me, it was the only picture I had of me as an infant. Trixie couldn’t afford a camera, so she said; little did we know The Gorilla was funding the entire orphanage. Trixie was thrifty with a penny. She made poor Abe Lincoln bleed. Hell, we had to dumpster dive for clothes. Go to the free food store for our commodity cheese and stand in front of the TV’s in the electronic section of K-Mart to see the daily news.

Donna left me to sip my coffee and go through the articles, stopping a few times to look over my shoulder and make a comment. She was obviously as interested in my family as I was.

Most of the articles were about my grandfather putting a hit out on someone. It was rumored a big time news reporter in the New York area was killed because he had made a remark on the news about our family and Grandfather didn’t like it.

No wonder I was drawn to petty crimes and criminals. It had to be in the bloodline.

“I’m sorry, Laurel.” Donna came back into the room. “It’s after midnight and I want to go home.”

“Ohmygod!” I jumped up and grabbed the articles. “Thanks!”

“You need to leave those here,” she instructed me. “Property of the library.”

“Okay. What do I do with this mug?” I asked.

“I’ll take it.” She grabbed it and went back to the coffee bar; I slipped the article with the photo in my hobo bag. There was no way she was going to keep what might be my only photo of me with my real family.

“Thanks, Donna.” I waved. “I appreciate all your hard work.”

“No big deal.” She shrugged and pushed her glasses back up on her nose. “It’s kinda fun and exciting. Especially since the mob came to our little town.”

“Yeah. Exciting,” I muttered and hurried out.

The Deans’ place was at least twenty miles off Main Street and I was going to be late. There was a little tug in my head hoping he had already left, but another tug in my heart to see him.

The barn was a few acres away from Curly’s house, which was a little bit of the way down the road. I could see the barn outline from the illumination of the moon. There wasn’t a light on, but I still drove up and parked anyway. I turned off the headlights of the Old Girl and pulled around back.

I was careful, on the way out here, to make sure no one, namely Eric, was following me. I’d be even more careful by pulling around the back of the barn where Trixie made us go to pluck weeds from their garden when Curly told her the orphans were stealing her vegetables.