Someone Bad and Something Blue (21 page)

 

G
eorgia Moon B&B looked like a show house in a
Southern Living
magazine catalog. It was a light blue bungalow trimmed in white and surrounded by palm trees, Georgia pine, and white sand from the Georgia coast. It was charming.

Claudine Morgan, the proprietor, showed me to a room that was pink, luscious, and filled with magnolias. I giggled at the thought of Sanchez gagging once she saw her room. She didn't look like the Southern lady type. Mom often said that most Atlantans were far removed from the elegant responsibility of being Georgian. As I sat on my bed and rubbed my hands across the lace and silk duvet, I wondered if there was a ring of truth in there. Just like the heritage and prestige of creating your own family chacha or mountain dew, places like these were luxuries now that most people no longer cared for.

There was a white, porcelain claw-foot tub in the bathroom and it made me sad. I should have taken my vacation seriously and booked this place as my weekend retreat. Bella would have loved the warmer weather and the chance to wiggle her tiny toes in the sand. Lana's wedding would be a few minutes up the road in a few weeks. Perhaps I should surrender to that bridesmaids' gift. It would be a great excuse for me to ask Tiger for more time off. I could use some of the money Maxim would pay me for finding Sean's killer to spend a few extra days here with my baby, maybe convince Justus to book a room down the hall—not as frilly as the room Sanchez had, but something nearby. It would be our first test as a family together and alone from our own professional and family responsibilities.

As soon as Ms. Claudine dropped my room keys into my hands, I wiggled out of my clothes and pretended I was the lady in the Calgon bubble bath commercials.

When my phone rang I assumed it was Sanchez calling to remind me of our schedule. I wiped the bubbles off my hand, reached for the phone, and answered.

“Angel, it's Rosary. Did I just see you on the local news?”

I sat up straight. Water splashed everywhere, including on my clothes.

I pulled the phone back from my ear, to make sure I hadn't dozed off. “Rosary, is that really you? Are you in Folkston?”

I whispered. I didn't want Sanchez to hear for fear she was the mole and might tip off Biloxi's contractor.

“I'm in Statenville at my auntie's house. Lucia is with me.”

Statenville. I knew it.
“You know we've been searching for you.”

“I know I skipped my bail, but folks don't care about that as much down here. I got a job, because my boss is in the same Sunday School as my auntie. When I get my money right I'll contact the courts and pay whatever the cost is to clear the warrant. So please don't look for me, Angel. I can't go back up there.”

“Do you mean you can't go back to jail or back to Atlanta?”

“Both.” She paused. “I can't give you the details, but right now, until things die down, it's the right thing to do.”

I cringed when she said “die down.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “It's not that easy, Rosary.”

“But it is. Sean told me how it works with the courts. He may even loan me the money to get out of all of it.”

“Why would he do that?” I asked.

“Because he's a good man.” She paused. “He's good to us.”

“Rosary, he's dead,” I said, straight with no chaser. “He's dead, honey.”

Silence.

“Did you hear me?”

Silence, then a click.

“Rosie!” I shouted.

She hung up before I could get her phone number and aunt's address. I also wanted to tell her we would keep her and the baby safe.

Someone knocked on my door again. I jumped.

“Angel, it's me,” Sanchez said. “Are you okay?”

“Yep, I'm good. . . .” I slid out the bath and tried not to slip on the floor with my wet feet. “Just thought I saw a spider.”

“Okay, well. I'm right down the hall,” she said.

I hurried and put on my clothes. I needed to tell Maxim where Rosary was. Statenville wasn't a big town. It was a hop and skip near Uncle Pete and Aunt Mary's. It would be easy to find her now that we know where she was. If only I knew her auntie's name.

I called his cell. He picked up on the first ring. “This better be good, Crawford.”

“Maxim, Rosary just called me and hung up after I told her that Sean Graham was dead.”

He cursed. “Angel, are you applying any of the interview and interrogation techniques we taught you in class?”

I bit my lip. “I was caught off guard.”

“Stop with the excuses and tell me, what happened?”

“All I know is that she's in Statenville, where her aunt is, which is a few minutes from here. She saw us on the news, and Sean provided more than free legal service.”

“Do you know what this means?”

I shook my head. “Not yet? No?”

He sighed. I could hear his disappointment with me in his voice. “It means The Knocker knows we're here. The sheriff's office promised me that they would ask for an embargo from the press about our activity here, but from what you just said I now know that was a wash.”

“What should I do now?”

“Open your window so I can get in.”

I frowned. “What? Are you outside?”

“You think I would leave you alone with a possible mole?”

“Well, you're not coming up into my boudoir. How 'bout I climb down to you, that way Sanchez won't know I'm gone.”

“Yeah, that's exactly what I meant,” Maxim said.

 

A
s Sanchez slept, Maxim and I checked into a seedy motel and combed through every out-of-date phone book, newspaper, and high school yearbook I could slip out of the B&B, to find Rosary's aunt. I also did a lot of cyber digging. During my Tuesday class, Deacon had introduced us to some MI6 spy software that could cut our work down to minutes. The only challenge was that we were down here in Swamp Georgia. The Wi-Fi Internet connection was slower than a gopher turtle waddling across the highway. I picked up another phone book and began to read down all the pages under Jacobs or Ingrams I could find. Those surnames were Rosary's mother's maiden name.

In the same class where we'd learned about the British intelligence computer software, Deacon reminded us that the number-one way to locate someone was to find out where home was. For infamous bank robber John Dillinger, home was a movie theater. I began to wonder if Maxim and I could find The Knocker this way as well.

Obviously Garden Ridge wasn't The Knocker's home, because there wasn't a store here, but there was someplace, someone, or something he couldn't live without. I could stay up all night to find out what it was and then shoot him in the eye with his captive bolt pistol once he knew that it was me who caught him. I kinda felt like the Lady in Red, except I was wearing regulation blue.

Around four in the morning something stood out. A name. Giselle Brown. She hadn't showed up in The Knocker's jacket, because they only included bail bonds that were issued. However, I remembered seeing her name earlier at the sheriff's office.

The police department was housed in the city hall, so it had been a snap to gather public records like warrants, bonds, liens. Before Sanchez and I checked into the B & B, I had searched for all things Biloxi James. I discovered there was a record of a bond for a theft charge that was revoked, because the case was dismissed due to dropped charges by the property owner, a Graham Brown. The bond owner's name was ironically Giselle Brown.

Giselle Brown's name appeared again in a credit purchase of a Schwinn bike at a Western Auto Store in Valdosta, Georgia, which was about an hour from here past Echols County. There was some dispute at the store when she bought the bike that resulted in the arrest of one Biloxi James. Again the charges were later dropped. Then I found the name again tonight in a recent Statenville, Georgia, newspaper. A local church had hosted a benefit in honor of Mr. Graham Brown and Ms. Giselle Brown. Elaine was the keynote speaker. According to the caption, Sean Graham was kissing Giselle Brown on the cheek.

I observed the photo more closely. Elaine took great care of her constituents, but Sean rarely was this personal with them. I pulled the article closer and studied Giselle and Sean's face. They resembled each other. I reached for my phone and studied the pics of Sean's wallet again.

I observed the driver's license.
Sean Graham Brown.

My eyes widened. I sat up. “Sean was such a stinking liar!”

I jumped, tumbled off the bed and felt a man under me.

“Ow!” Maxim groaned.

I scrambled off of him “So sorry.”

“What in hell, woman.” He growled lightheartedly, lifted me over him and planted me onto the floor beside where he lay. He just lay there and looked up at me. I tried to pretend like I wasn't wowed by his coolness and strength.

I ran my hand down the back of my head, to calm my hormones. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“Waiting for you to jump me again. It was nice.” He sat up and rested his back against the bed. “Now have you found Rosie's aunt or is the swamp heat making you batty?”

“I don't know, but I think I discovered something about Sean that may lead us to Biloxi.”

“What?”

“More like who?”

He frowned. “I don't do riddles, so speak plain.”

I stood up and over him to get my laptop. I lowered it onto his lap and pointed at the screen. “This woman and Biloxi have some kind of connection. She's been his indemnitor on more than one occasion, she's kept him out of hot water with her husband Graham, and she's also related to Sean somehow.”

“Say what?” He sprouted from the floor.

I stumbled slightly back against the bed. “This woman, Giselle Brown, is related to Sean.”

“And she's had dealings with Biloxi?”

“For years.” I nodded.

He began to pace the room. “Do you think Sean knew Biloxi?”

I shrugged. “But get this. Giselle lives in Statenville, where Rosary said she was.”

He stopped and put his hands on his waist. “This can't be a coincidence.”

“I don't believe in coincidences. Do you?”

“Do you think this is a longstanding generational feud and has nothing to do with moonshine or Rosary at all?”

“Moonshining and generational feuds go hand in hand down here. Usually South Georgia and Appalachia Georgia moonshiners don't compete for business, because shine season is usually in the warmer months, but lately the winter has been warm longer and if you ran stills down in South Georgia where it's warm almost year round . . . This thing could be territorial and personal. It definitely would explain why Elaine was spared, but why did he kill the others?”

“As soon as I think I have this thing locked up, you throw water on my birthday cake,” Maxim said.

“Ha Ha, not funny.” I rolled my eyes. “Did you get Sean's toxicology report from the M.E.?”

“Not yet, why?” he asked.

“I find it odd that Sean would sit there and allow Biloxi to push that bolt through his head. Biloxi had to have paralyzed him or something. A captive bolt stunner isn't hard to conceal and easy to run away from,” I said. “Biloxi didn't have it when I bumped into him.”

“I have no clue.” Maxim sat on the bed and pulled his hat off the night stand. “But as for the others, everyone else was shot with a rifle.”

“Perhaps he killed anyone who got in the way of his sick plans for Sean.”

Maxim looked up at me and threw his palms up. “Who was he to Sean?”

“I think we need to start with
who
is Biloxi to Giselle Brown?”

“Do you think the Knocker will be after her?”

“She lives in Statenville, a short drive from here. Let's get dressed and find out.”

“Okay. Get dressed, while I assemble a small team to accompany me down there. I'll call Lowndes County, Lake Park, Statenville, Valdosta, and Homerville cities to let them know I'm coming.”

I threw my arms over my chest. “No. I changed my mind. I want to go by myself.”

“I'm sorry, Angel. What did you say? You can't do anything without me. You're civilian and I'm in charge of this operation.”

“Maxim, she's in mourning. Sean is dead. She doesn't need us scaring her to death. From what I read in this article, it will overwhelm her. She seems really sweet and she's ill.”

“I understand your concern, but you have to stay focused. We need to see that woman and if need be protect her by taking her somewhere safe until we catch this guy.”

“Okay. Then I'll convince her to come with me and I'll bring her to you.”

“Have you lost your ding dong mind?” His eyes blazed. His words stung the air.

“Maxim, I'm a recovery agent. I know how to transport people. It's what I do and I do it well. You can't leave, because there's a manhunt about to happen. And don't even think about having Sanchez tag along or you will most definitely get a discrimination lawsuit on your hands.”

“Now hold onto your bra strap. This has nothing to do with you being a female. No man goes alone.”

I grinned. “Honey, I'm a woman and in this case my going alone is your best bet. She seems like a sweet lady. I'll be back with her before you guys head into the swamp.”

“And what about Biloxi? What if he's there?”

“The woman has kept him out of trouble for decades. He doesn't have a beef with her and if he did, killing a loved one was payback enough. Trust me on that one.”

He shook his head. “I'm not letting you leave my sight.”

“Okay, then come with me, but hang back when I get close to the property. Put me on surveillance and have your men in place, if something pops off. But y'all can't knock on her door with me. She's not going to tell us what we need to know if we storm in there looking like the cast of
X-Men
.”

“What do comic books have to do with this?” His voice rose.

“Y'all, Sanchez, Ty, JD, and you, y'all look like WWF wrestlers and superheroes. I look . . . like you said before I'm a chameleon. I can look like whatever will make her comfortable and Giselle, she's not going to tell what we need to know to somebody that looks like you. Big Tiger hires me to pick up very smart characters, because they wouldn't suspect I was coming to get them. I'm thinking instead of inviting Sanchez and the others down here with us, you should've brought one of the fluffy marshals with you, too.”

He huffed. “I must be tired or going crazy to even consider this.”

“Just give me two hours with Giselle. If I don't come out, then come get me.”

His eyes widened. He looked me up and down. He licked his lips. “Come get you?”

“Let's sleep on it.” He huffed and paced for a few seconds then stopped. “I mean. Let's get a few hours of decent sleep. This place is crap and we can't be in here like that. I need to get you back to the B & B.”

“No, you can't do that either.”

He frowned. “What's wrong now?”

“Well, I don't want Ms. Claudine to think I'm slutty, if you take me back.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” He began to pace the floor.

“Calm down. It was a joke.” I smiled.

“I got the joke; I just don't get you.”