Choke (20 page)

Ms. Joyce nodded. Immy couldn’t manage to say anything. Her story? She was getting dizzier trying to figure out what would happen to her.

“We have you in the vicinity of a possible meth operation. I’m not convinced that was all innocent.”

Immy whimpered.

“We also have you in possession of stolen property from a murder scene, and I don’t believe much of what you’re telling about that either. Frankly, this all seems tied together, and we have a murder to solve.”

Immy’s feeling were hurt. “Can’t you get the killer’s fingerprints from the money?”

“There will only be about eight thousand fingerprints all over the damn money.” Chief slapped the table, and Immy jumped. Even Ms. Joyce flinched. “I’m going to untangle this mess and find out what happened if it takes a year.”

He threw the door opened and yelled for Ralph. “Lock her up,” he roared.

The little lawyer planted herself in front of the chief. “On what grounds are you holding her?”

“Engaging in organized criminal activity. Money laundering in connection with a felony offense. Abetting drug fraud. But mostly, failure to identify. Need some more?” The chief sidestepped Ms. Joyce and stormed off toward his office at the back of the building while Ralph led Immy across the hall. She considered resisting but knew Ralph could pick her up and carry her to a cell if he wanted to.

Chief turned outside his office door. “Ralph, get Killroy in here and lock him up. Hortense, too. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“You can’t do that!” Joyce squeaked after him.

“Watch me,” he flung over his shoulder just before he slammed his door.

Ralph solemnly read Immy her rights and took her fingerprints, then ushered her into a small cell. “I’m really sorry, Immy.” He looked on the verge of tears as he swung the cell door closed and locked it.

“That’s all right, Ralph,” she said. “Not your fault. I didn’t know those checks were in the money. If I knew, wouldn’t I take them out and get rid of them?”

She could hear Ms. Joyce yelling in the hallway. “You’ll hear from me. You’ll release her or else.”

“Why am I locked up, Ralph?”

“You heard Chief. Organized crime, money laundering, and failure to identify. As a witness, I’m sure. “

Damn, Immy wished she had a reference book with her. What the hell was failure to identify?

Immy plopped onto the lower cot. It was almost as hard as the chairs in the lobby, but it seemed softer than the chair she had been in for the last three hours. It was going to be a challenge to solve Hugh’s murder, locked up like this. And, dammit, they were bringing Mother in, too.

Drew! Who would take care of Drew? The snake inside her hardened and turned to resolve. She had issues to take care of.

“I demand my one phone call,” yelled Immy, trying to rattle the bars of her cage. They were solidly attached and made no noise, wouldn’t even wobble, so she shouted louder. “You have to give me my one phone call.”

Ralph came running. “Who do you want to call, Immy? Everyone knows you’re here, and you just saw that lawyer.”

“Oh, good, you haven’t left yet. I have to make arrangements for Drew.”

She visualized the insides of Ralph’s head spinning slowly while he thought about this. Evidently, he decided it would be a good idea. “OK,” said Ralph. “I’ll bring you a cell phone.”

She glanced at the time on the borrowed phone before she called Clem at the diner. It was almost four. She hoped Mother would get to eat a snack before they locked her up. She didn’t want to imagine what dinner would be like in here. Maybe that little lawyer woman would spring them before long.

“Hi, Clem. I have a favor to ask.” She thought he sounded harried. “How’s the business going?” With a jolt, Immy realized that the business was now her business. She owned it. She wondered if the money and the checks from the cash drawer would ever make it back to the business. An owner would have to think of things like that. The bottom line, Huey always said. That was the most important thing.

“Couldn’t be busier,” Clem said. “The more trouble you cause, young lady, the better it is for this place.” Did he chuckle? Did he think her predicament was funny?

If his reasoning held water, there ought to be a line around the block when word of her arrest got out, but she didn’t want word to get out. She didn’t belong here.

“Clem, don’t tell anyone, but I’m in the big house.” Immy wondered how many filthy perps had breathed into this phone. It smelled like years of bad breath. She moved it a half inch away from her mouth.

“Whose house is it, that new one on the edge of town? I wondered who was building it.”

“I’m in jail!”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing! They’re all trumped up charges.”

“What are the trumped up charges?” She heard a clatter in the background. “Baxter,” shouted Clem, trying to muffle the phone with his hand. “If you break one more glass, you’re fired.” He returned his attention to Immy. “At least he’s not in jail.”

But he soon would be, Immy knew, as soon as Ralph rounded him up.

“Clem, Mother is going to be locked up, too.”

“You ladies running a crime ring or something?”

“We haven’t done anything! I told you, trumped up charges. Organized crime. Abetting something.”

There was a brief lull, then Clem replied. “Abetting what?”

Good question. “Something to do with Uncle Huey’s murder, I guess. Or maybe the robbery, if they’re separate. And maybe something about drugs. I’m not sure, but could you run over and get Drew? She’ll be alone after they take Mother in.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie.” His volume rose. “Baxter, mind the store for a few minutes. I have to pick up Drew.”

“Wait. Don’t have Baxter do it.”

“Why not?”

“He’s about to be arrested, too.”

A longer lull this time. “You must be running a crime ring. Are they rounding up the whole town? I need a busboy here, Immy. The other worthless bum didn’t show up, and after I gave him a whole week off. It’s almost supper time. I can’t really afford to run to your house.”

Immy looked at Ralph, loitering outside her cell, waiting to take the phone away when she finished. “Wait a sec, Clem.” She held the phone away from her mouth. “Ralph, could you drop Drew at the diner when you pick Mother up?”

He pushed off the wall and walked to her bars. “I guess so. I don’t see why not. I have to go there to bring in Killroy anyway.”

She told Clem to expect Ralph to drop Drew off and to expect to lose Baxter, no matter how much he needed him right now.

“One more thing, Clem. Are you taking extra precautions?” She didn’t know if he’d gotten the anonymous note she had left for him, warning him of the contract job by Frankie’s Uncle Guido.

“I always take extra precautions, Immy. Cook all the meat through and through.”

She couldn’t think of another way to ask him without revealing she had broken into his house when he wasn’t there. Besides, Guido was a small man, and Clem probably weighed three times what he did. Maybe Clem could sit on Guido when Guido tried to off him.

The thought occurred to her that she was maybe involved in organized crime, if Chief was talking about Guido.

* * *

AS UNCOMFORTABLE AS THE COT WAS, Immy must have fallen asleep, because she jolted upright when her cell door clanged open. If she had been half an inch taller, she would have bumped her head on the bottom of the top bunk.

“I’m so sorry, Hortense,” said Ralph, sounding mournful. Mother stood in the doorway, dazed, looking like she was never going to take another step. Ralph gave her a gentle nudge, then another, but gentle nudges didn’t have much effect on Hortense. He finally bent over, planted his hands on her back, and pushed her into the cell. The clang of the locking door had a cold, hollow sound. Immy jumped up, but Hortense staggered across the cell to the lower bunk. It sagged and groaned as she lowered her bulk onto it.

When Immy looked away, Baxter stood outside the bars, his hands cuffed behind his back. The look he shot Immy burned with hatred.

“Baxter,” Immy said. “It’s not my fault you’re here.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

“Move it, Killroy,” said Ralph, no mourning in his voice now. “Over here.” He grabbed Baxter’s arm and pulled him.

Immy called after them as Ralph led Baxter out of sight to the adjoining cell. Saltlick only had three cells total. “I never ratted on you. Never. If they tell you I did, they’re lying. The cops always lie to get you to confess, remember that.”

Baxter’s door banged shut, Ralph left without meeting Immy’s eyes, and the felons were left alone.

Immy stood at the bars, trying to see Baxter, but she couldn’t. Behind her, Hortense broke into a mournful wail. Was any of this Immy’s fault? She sat beside Mother on the cot and patted her nice, round knee, then leaned her head onto Mother’s soft shoulder. The shoulder gradually stopped quaking, and Hortense raised a hand to stroke her daughter’s hair.

“You’re a good girl, Immy,” she whispered, her voice husky with crying.

Immy tried to accept the spirit of Mother’s words. On the one hand, Mother wasn’t blaming her for the mess they were in. She loved her for that. But she couldn’t keep her other thoughts away.
I’m not a girl. I’m a woman, and I’ll get us out of this.

Her mind wandered to the next cell. She could hear low conversation. Was someone else in Baxter’s cell? The hostility in Baxter’s eyes had scared her, she had to admit. She needed to make sure he knew she hadn’t put him here.

Giving her mother’s knee one last pat, she walked to the front of the cell and pressed her forehead to the bars, getting herself as close to Baxter’s cell as she could.

“Psst! Baxter.”

“Leave me alone, Immy.”

“Are you all right?”

“No, Immy, I am not all right. I’m in jail.”

“I want you to know I didn’t tell them anything.”

No answer.

“I’m not the reason you’re here.”

“And how do you figure that?” He still didn’t sound friendly, like he usually did. She needed to be more specific.

“I never told anyone you were at the motel. They didn’t get that from me.”

“That’s not the main reason I’m here, Immy.”

She heard shuffling in his cell. The next time he spoke, his voice was nearer. He must have gone to the bars at the front of his cell, too. “But I am here because of you.”

“No, I never said anything bad about you.”

“No, you just told them the money came from me.”

“Because it did!”

Baxter’s intake of breath sounded shaky. “Now they think I stole it. From there it’s not a huge leap to murdering Hugh. You planted those checks in there to make them think I took that money from the till.”

Immy jerked her head back from the bars. “I most certainly did not, but someone did.” She slumped against the wall. Dust motes swirled in the sunbeams of the dying day, coming through the high, barred window. It was amazing there was dust in a place with such hard surfaces.

“Imogene, don’t bite your lower lip like that,” said Mother.

Immy leaned toward Baxter’s cell again. The bars were still warm from her previous contact. “Baxter, where did you get that money? You said you didn’t steal it, right?”

Silence.

“Is someone in that cell with you?” Maybe he didn’t want to spill his guts with a potential stool pigeon so close.

“No, but Phil is in the next cell.”

“Who’s Phil?”

“He’s the guy who was picked up at the motel.”

“Oh, the one making meth in your room that you didn’t know about.” She heard a snigger from down the hall. “Did Phil give you that money?” Could Baxter have known about the meth lab? Come to think of it, how could he have not known? It was such stinky stuff. Was that the organized crime?

“Huh? No, it’s none of your business where I got it.”

“It most certainly is! That money is the reason we’re all in jail, you idiot.”

“And you didn’t frame me with it? You sure about that?” said Baxter.

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“Immy, I don’t know why the hell you do anything.”

Immy took a moment to think. Whoever took that money might not have noticed the checks in it. She didn’t, and Baxter didn’t. On the other hand, they or he or she might have noticed the checks, might even have put them there. In which case, both she and Baxter were being framed—maybe by the killer.

“Look, Baxter. Those checks came from Huey’s cash drawer. So the money probably came from there, too. If you didn’t steal it, someone else did, maybe the killer.”

“Probably the killer, babe. I think you’re right.” He sounded a little more friendly now, at least. Not so scary.

“OK, then. Who did you get the money from?”

“I came across it.”

“Nobody’s going to believe that.”

“Tell me about it, but really, that’s what happened.”

“I believe you.”
If it’ll make you tell me where you got the money.
This could be a serious clue. It had to be.

“I don’t know if you know that I quit bussing at the diner after Hugh got killed. Told Clem I quit. But then Clem called me in Saturday to rehire me. I said OK because my other venture hadn’t quite worked out.” Immy thought she heard that snigger again, and did another one come from Mother? “When I came out after talking to Clem that morning, there was a paper bag on the ground next to my truck. All this money was in it.”

Immy leaned her back against the wall and studied the ceiling, considering Baxter’s tale. “You didn’t wonder where it came from?”

Hortense lifted her head. Immy could see the wheels in her mind turning as Mother narrowed her eyes and bit her own lower lip.

“Hey, money’s money, but yeah, I did think it might be stolen. Guess I didn’t think it would still be there, right outside the back door, if it was the money from the diner, though. That was Saturday I found it. Hugh was killed the Tuesday before that, right?”

“Monday night. You found him Tuesday.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Immy drummed her fingers on one of the bars. “So where does that leave us?”

“In jail,” said Baxter.