The Bogus Biker (5 page)

CHAPTER NINE

Office Rosabel Deane, looking curvier in her well-cut uniform than any officer had to the right to look in Penelope’s opinion, showed up just before noon. “They were talking about a shipment to the Sit-n-Swill,” Penelope repeated as she took Rosabel upstairs.

Inside the room,
Rosabel sniffed the air with a practiced nose. “Uh-huh.” She crossed the room to look under the bed and in the closet.

“Pot?”
Penelope asked, keeping her tone neutral.

“Right.”

“That’s what I thought, too. Find anything at the Sit-n-Swill after we left last night?”

“Not much.”

“I know you can’t talk about it.”

Rosabel
smiled, displaying a deep dimple in each olive-skinned cheek. Penelope had heard her grandparents were first-generation immigrants from Lebanon and considered that the younger woman’s heritage showcased itself in all the best ways.

“Did Bradley or Chief Malone send you over here?”

A slight pink illuminated Rosabel’s smooth complexion. “Sergeant Pembroke sent me.”

Penelope nodded. “Abigail Talbot’s a nice girl, but you and Bradley have more in common.”

Rosabel turned her face away and put on a pair of plastic gloves which she used to slip a glass from the bathroom sink into an evidence bag.

“I didn’t touch anything,” Penelope assured her.
“Just got the hair out of the sink and the green stuff out of the trash.

“Good thinking.”

“Bradley doesn’t think I think.”

“No?” The younger woman made another circle of the room and checked the closet again. “Did they go out at all after they checked in?”

“Not that I know of.
It was seven-thirty. I offered them a sandwich, but I guess they’d already eaten.

“The names on the registration cards were
fake, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

“My lips are sealed. I guess I need to start asking for ID.”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea, Mrs. Pembroke.”

“Seems sort of silly in a little place like Amaryllis.”

“Well, it’s getting hotter for the dealers in big towns, so they’re looking into smaller places to cut their deals. Out of the limelight, you know. That’s my opinion anyway. Sergeant Pembroke says maybe and maybe not.

“It makes sense, I guess.”

“What exactly did they say to make you and your father go to the Sit-n-Swill last night?”

“It was Daddy’s idea.” Penelope closed her eyes and screwed up her mouth. Jake said that didn’t help the brain think better, but it was a long-standing habit she couldn’t break. “They were talking at breakfast. I was in and out, but I guess they didn’t notice I was standing in the dish pantry. One of them said, ‘We should’ve waited to come until closer to time to make the drop,’ and the other one said, ‘He said to get here by noon.’”

Rosabel nodded. “Okay, so how did the Sit-n-Swill come up?”

“As they were leaving to go back upstairs for their stuff, one of them laughed and said ‘Sit-n-Swill’s a dumb name. Sounds like your granny’s still.’” Penelope narrowed her eyes. “I know this is a small town, but we’re not living in the dark ages. I guess there might be a still or two in Possum Hollow, but…”

“Would you recognize them again if you saw them?” Rosabel interrupted.

“I think so.”

“From pictures?”

“Maybe.”

“How were they dressed?”

“Just casual.
Not ratty-casual like kids today. Well-groomed. Short hair—well, except for the one who had a sort of ponytail hanging on his collar. And clean-shaven, even that time of evening. They spoke like they had some education.”

“Like they were from around here?”

“Definitely not. They were Yankees.”

Rosabel
chuckled. “Like me.”

“No offense, sweetie.”

“I’m learning.”

“Sure you are. You’ll be a dyed-in-the-wool, unreconstructed Southerner in no time.”

“Unreconstructed?”

“Well, maybe not. They’re getting fewer and fewer these days, thank goodness.”

Rosabel laughed, showing her dimples again. “I’ll see if Sergeant Pembroke wants you to come down and look at some pictures, but it sounds like they were small-timers. Runners. Maybe even part-time, just somebody looking to make a quick buck. Might not be in the system at all.”

“You all knew something last night. You didn’t just show up because somebody shot off that gun. It happened too
quick.”

“Umm,”
Rosabel said. “You can clean the room now, Mrs. Pembroke.”

“Do you think they left the stuff in their car overnight?”

“It would’ve been safe enough here. It’s probably why they didn’t stop on the interstate. What kind of luggage did they have?”

“Come to think of it, nothing but a gym bag apiece.”

“Uh-huh. Well, it was outside then.”

On the way downstairs, Penelope said, “Why did Bradley send you instead of coming himself?”

“Maybe he figured you’d tell me more. Woman-to-woman, you know.”

“Bradley doesn’t listen to me, so he wouldn’t know what I told him.”

“Men are like that sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you at Mass several times,
Rosabel, so I’m hoping you’re a practicing Catholic.”

The young officer nodded.
“Yes, ma’am. Unfortunately, sometimes I’m on duty and can’t make it on Sunday, but I try to go during the week when I can.”

“Abigail Talbot’s a Presbyterian.”

Rosabel didn’t reply.

“Well, come by sometime when you’re off-duty. I’ll fix lunch and introduce you to
Abijah.”

“The cat.”

“You know about him, do you?”

“Your son doesn’t like him very much.”

“He doesn’t like Bradley very much either, but I love them both.”

As she watched
Rosabel walk toward her patrol car at the curb, Penelope glimpsed Mary Lynn getting out her car in the driveway. “What’s going on?” the mayor’s wife called as she came up the walk.

“She just dropped by.”

“Officially? Through the front door?”

Penelope deliberated on how much to say. “Come back to the kitchen, and we’ll talk.”

****

“You and Mr. Kelley shouldn’t have gone to Roger’s last night,” Mary Lynn said when Penelope finished filling her in on everything except Tiny.

“Why not?”

“You could’ve gotten hurt. Harry says Roger gets a rough crowd in there these days.”
             

“You never told me that.”

“I didn’t think I needed to.”

“Anyway, Daddy says it was a random shot.
A diversion.”

“And then the police showed up. I can imagine my godson’s reaction to seeing you there.”

“I was right about those two,” Penelope said, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

“Okay, you were right, but…”

“But nothing. Maybe I’ve helped the police. Helped a lot, actually.” She regarded her friend for a few seconds. “Does Harry ever mention any problems around here? Besides Roger’s crowd, I mean.”

“Sometimes that’s all he talks about. Everybody thinks he’s Solomon and can solve all their problems.
Him and the Town Council.”

“No, I mean about problems from outside.
Drugs.”

Mary Lynn’s eyes darkened. “There is no outside anymore, Pen. Every place is vulnerable.”

“I haven’t heard about a problem at the high school.”

“Neither have I, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

“Roger wouldn’t sell to kids.”

“Maybe that lace on his drawers is getting a little tattered.”

Penelope considered the idea. “I hope not.”

Jake chose that inopportune moment to burst through the
back door holding up a Walmart bag and saying, “I got ‘em.” When he saw Mary Lynn, he lowered the bag. “Hello there, Mrs. Mayor.”

“Hey, Mr. Kelley.”

“I went shopping,” he said. “Over to the Walmart on the interstate.”

“Find any bargains?”

“A few.” He edged toward the door of his apartment. “I’ll talk to you later, Nellie.”

Penelope cut her eyes back to Mary Lynn, but the woman appeared oblivious to anything out of sync. “We’ve got to plan breakfast menus for next week. I’m booked solid from Thursday through the weekend.”

Mary Lynn took a notebook out of her floppy zebra-print bag. “That’s what I came for. Let’s get to work.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Coast clear?” Jake asked, poking his head around the door facing.

“Mary Lynn went to the Garden Market.”

Jake emerged from the closet-sized hall leading to his apartment and plunked a plastic shopping bag on the table.

“He may not even be back, but I swear, Daddy, his clothes stunk to high blessed heaven.”

“I got him some
stinkum
.” Jake held up a can of deodorant and chuckled. “Your mother always thought it was funny when I called it that.”

“I remember.”

“Also some shaving cream, a package of disposable razors, briefs, and some socks.”

“Surely he won’t be here that long.”

“Well, however long, he’ll smell better. Want me to take all this upstairs?”

“No, I’ll do it.
Rosabel came by and checked things out and said I could clean the other room now.”

“She
find anything?”

“No.”

“Say anything about Brad?”

“Just for me not to tell him she told me those fellows’ IDs were bogus.”

“He’ll enjoy telling you that himself.”

“More like throwing it in my face.”

“Now, Nellie.”

“I wonder who
Tiny
really is? FBI? DEA? CIA?”

“Well, not CIA. That’s for frying bigger fish than we’ve got here in Amaryllis.”

“I guess so. I didn’t plan anything for supper, and we can’t go back to the Sit-n-Swill for Reubens. Not that I care.”

“I’ll run over to the Garden Market Deli and pick up something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Whatever looks
good.” Jake headed for the back door. “I take it you told Mary Lynn about all this?”

“All of it except for Tiny.”

“That was probably a good idea. I won’t mention him either if I run into her.”

****

Upstairs, Penelope laid the packages of underwear, socks, and pajamas on the bed and lined up the toiletries on the bathroom vanity. What would
Tiny
think of all this when and if he came back? That they were trying to make points with him for some underhanded reason? She hoped not, but it would be interesting to see if he
cleaned up nice
, as her mother used to say. With that in mind, she went to her own room and hunted up a hotel comb still in its cellophane wrap. She’d picked it up on a trip to Tupelo a few years back, and the name of the hotel was printed on it. But a comb was a comb. It would have to do.

After adding the comb, as well as some peroxide, cotton balls, and a fresh bandage to the amenities on the vanity, she glanced around to see if anything was missing. Then she took a closer look at the pajamas—the pair of bright yellow cotton pants had motorcycles printed on them.
Motorcycles. Oh, you’re a pistol, Daddy.
Then she thought again about
Tiny
sleeping in the buff the night before and didn’t like the way it made her feel.

Rushing out of the room, she went down to the kitchen again and rummaged in the pantry for the clown waffle iron. After rinsing it and leaving it open to dry, she mixed waffles from her grandmother’s recipe. Pre-packaged mixes had always been pretty much unknown in the Kelley household. Her mother made everything from scratch, too, and worried about what Penelope cooked for Jake and Bradley when she wasn’t able to do it anymore.

Penelope poured the batter into a plastic container with an airtight lid and placed it beside the leftover green beans and new potatoes she’d cooked two nights earlier.
I could’ve warmed those up…thawed a couple of chicken breasts…
The phone on the wall beside the dining room door interrupted her thoughts.

“Mother?”

“Hello, Bradley. How are you?”

“I’m good.
Just wanted to say thanks for thinking about not cleaning the room until we could go over it.”

“I’m glad you acknowledge that I occasionally think.”

“Mother.”

“And I also knew what that green stuff was without being told.”

“Yeah, Officer Deane said she smelled it the minute you opened the door up there. Their IDs were fake, too.”

She remembered she wasn’t supposed to know that. “Oh?”

“You really should ask for two forms of ID.”

“Couldn’t they fake two just as good as one?”

“Not as likely.”

“So how did you all get to the Sit-n-Swill so quick last night?”

“That’s police business.”

“I see.”

“Don’t start, Mother.”

“No, sorry.
What are you doing for supper tonight?”

“Abigail’s cooking some seafood recipe she picked up in New Orleans.”

“What was she doing in New Orleans?”

“Library convention.”

“I don’t know why they have conventions in a place like that. Who wants to sit in dreary meetings when there’s so much to do?”

“Abigail said the sessions were interesting.”

Why am I not surprised little Miss Prim and Proper went to the meetings instead of sight-seeing.
“Have you seen your father recently?”

“No.”

“You should call him sometimes.”

“I called him twice last week, but he wasn’t home. She was.”

“Shana.”

“Right.
I left messages, but I guess she didn’t give them to him.”

“Twit.
Listen, Bradley, come over anytime for supper. Bring Rosabel with you.”

“Mother, my relationship with Officer Deane is purely professional. It has to be.”

“Oh, sure. I understand. Sorry.” She didn’t amend the invitation to include Abigail Talbot.
That girl possesses about as much personality as a sloth on tranquilizers.

“But I’ll see you sometime. Be careful.”

“I’m careful. You need to take your own advice.” She’d never forgotten the first time she’d happened to hug him when he was wearing his bulletproof vest, and how she’d died a little inside.

“Bye now, Mother.” He hung up.

Penelope dropped the receiver back into the hook and stood thinking about the baby she’d rocked and nursed, so soft and safe in his sleeper and blanket. Now he wore a keflon vest and packed a gun so big it scared her just to look at it, much less think of what it could do to a human body. She’d raised him to follow his dreams—but sometimes what he was doing gave her nightmares.