Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) (25 page)

“Next up is the men,” Shawna smirked. “You think husbands and fathers are going to want you painting pictures of dingles in their town? I’m taking the photos 'round to Sunday services tomorrow. And I’m inviting Mr. Max to do the circuit with me. I heard he needs to reach out to the community. Perfect timing, really.”

She gunned her motor and flew through the gates.

I kicked a piece of gravel and stomped back to the Firebird. I could handle a couple beefy men at a trucker bar, but this ridiculous woman almost made me cry.

I should have pulled the shotgun on Shawna.

Thirty-Two

The
next morning sunlight glanced off the dusty aluminum siding and heated tar paper roofs in the Sweetgum Estates. Feisty pit bulls charged their fences as I rolled past. Unsure of when Nik would show to pick me up for my Sunday painting session, I decided to haul butt to the Sweetgum Estates first. I had avoided Miss Gladys the day before. Now I avoided the good Christians of Halo who were about to get Sunday schooled on nekkid
Greek Todd
.

God should smite Shawna just for proposing that idea.

I had stopped at the Tru-Buy and loaded up on groceries and tabloids for Miss Gladys. No BMWs appeared, nor hostile truckers. Luck was on my side.

I parked Casey’s Firebird before the Coderre trailer and glanced at my traveling companion, the long, metal shotgun box on the seat next to me.

After last night’s scare, I was no longer flying solo anywhere. However, I couldn’t carry the shotgun and bags of groceries. And leaving a gun box in the front seat was akin to placing a “Rob Me” flag in the windshield. I left the gun box in the trunk and hauled out the groceries, all the while feeling the eyes of the neighborhood junkie coalition on my back.

Carrying the food, I struggled up the rickety wooden steps to the trailer door. With plastic bags looped over my arms and Pearl’s casserole dish clamped between my fingers, I knocked on the door with my shoulder and waited. After several minutes of silence, I grew nervous. What if Miss Gladys had fallen in Jerell’s absence? Or something had happened to her oxygen tanks?

Setting the bags and casserole on the steps, I tried the door knob. The door swung open.

“Miss Gladys?” I called, forcing my voice from hesitancy to hope.

I picked up the groceries and carried them inside the house, glancing around the shoddy room as I did. The video games and magazines had been pushed off the coffee table and onto the floor. The cabinet doors under the TV hung open and more video game equipment had been strewn across the rug. I dropped the groceries and pulled out my phone.

Luke’s line clicked over to voicemail, and I left a hurried message explaining what I’d found. Unsure if a messy house warranted a 9-1-1 call, I thought about my Remington in the trunk when I heard a weak cry from the back.

“Miss Gladys?” I called again.

The pitiful sound came from the bedroom at the end of the trailer. I abandoned thoughts of the shotgun and hurried down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, I turned the doorknob and pushed. The thin plywood door wouldn’t budge.

“Ma’am?” I knocked on the door. “Are you hurt? I’m calling an ambulance if you can’t get to the door.”

The door whipped open, and I stumbled back in surprise. A wild-haired woman with bloodshot eyes and a knife greeted me.

“Who are you?” she said.

“Miss Gladys,” I screamed through the intruder. “Are you in there? The police are on their way.”

“You didn’t call the police,” said the woman, jabbing the knife toward my face. “You called a Luke.”

I skipped back holding my hands before me. “Luke’s a deputy in the sheriff’s department. He’s on his way. He’ll bring back up.”

The woman lunged, directing the knife toward my midriff and backed me into the wall. “You’re just saying that because I got a knife. You know where Tyrone hid his money?”

“Miss Gladys,” I hollered. “If you can hear me, make a noise so I know you’re alive.”

I heard her feeble call from the bedroom and felt my resolve strengthen.

“Who are you?” I left my hands in front of me, slid my boot between the woman’s legs, and slowly turned my body on an angle. A self-defense move Uncle Will taught me. “You a Coderre or just some Sweetgum junkie looking to score off a sick, old woman?”

“Latisha Coderre,” she said. “I’m protecting our assets before the Sharps descend upon our family like the locusts in that Bible story.”

“Tyrone’s dealer?” I kept talking, my eyes on Latisha’s knife. My right hand drew back.

“Yes,” she said impatiently, raising the blade toward my neck. “They already messed with Destiny and she told them to come look for Tyrone’s money here. They’re coming to clear out the trailer.”

“The trailer of an old woman and a child?”

“The Sharps don’t care. Tyrone owed them. There’s lots of people in Sweetgum who owe the Sharps money. They don’t want people thinking that dying is a way to get out of a debt.”

“The Sharps sound real charitable.”

Latisha’s knife hand relaxed while she tried to puzzle out my sarcasm.

“Listen, can you lower your knife?” I said. “I want to check on Miss Gladys and make sure she’s okay. I was bringing groceries.”

“Yeah, okay.”

As her hand dropped, I rammed her arm with my shoulder. The knife fell to the floor, and I dove to snatch it. With the knife in hand, I jumped to my feet and turned on Latisha.

“What the hell?” I screamed at her. “What kind of person are you, holding knives on a dying woman? Go sit on that chair.” I pointed to a chair next to the kitchen table.

“I thought you was sympathetic,” Latisha moaned, rubbing her arm. “The Sharps are coming. Any minute. I’m trying to find the money and hide it before they get it.”

“The hell you are. You’re robbing an old woman.” I glanced around the room. No handy skein of rope lay nearby. I didn’t have time to paw through the cupboards. “Stay here while I go check on Miss Gladys.”

“Don’t get caught when the Sharps come. They killed Tyrone.”

“How’s that?”

“That’s what Regis Sharp told Destiny. They followed Tyrone and all he had was a little wire, so they killed him.”

“Just wait there,” I waved at the chair, yanked my phone from my pocket, and rushed toward the back bedroom. Miss Gladys lay on the floor, gasping. I found her oxygen tank in the bathroom, rolled it back to the bedroom, and slipped the tubes into her nose. While rubbing her back, I called for an ambulance and followed that with a direct call to Uncle Will.

Hearing a crash in the other room, I left Miss Gladys to peek down the hall. Latisha had fled. She had been replaced by another woman and two men. They stood in the living room surveying the mess. One man with dark, slicked back hair held a pistol in his hand.

“Holy shit.” I crept back to the bedroom and fastened the door. I glanced down at Miss Gladys and began to clear a path to shove the dresser in front of the door.

Sirens wailed in the distance. I blessed my phone and hunkered next to Miss Gladys. Pain and fright deepened the lines in her face.

“They’ll kill us,” she said. “Tyrone didn’t have no money.”

“The police and ambulance are on their way. You’re going to be fine,” I whispered. “We’ll get out of here.”

Through the door, I could hear an agitated conversation between the Sharps. The sirens grew louder.

“I better get Tyrone’s money quick, old woman.”

I jumped and Miss Gladys whimpered. The deep voice had resonated through the thin outside walls of the trailer. My Remington could have blasted a hole through that wall and easily taken him. For that matter, so could his handgun.

“I don’t care where you get the money, but you better find it. I know you’ve got it, Miss Gladys,” said the Sharp. “Everyone knows you’ve been stashing Tyrone’s take before he could spend it. You get it.”

Miss Gladys’s brown eyes rolled white. I held my breath, afraid to speak, fearing the bullets that could penetrate the thin walls. As the sirens grew, the dogs flew into a mad frenzy of barking.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you, Blondie,” said the voice. “I’ve watched you all week. You keep your mouth shut about this or you’re in for a world of hurt.”

Thirty-Three

“I don’
t think my life could get much worse,” I told Uncle Will. We sat in his Crown Vic, watching his officers process the crime scene. They strode throughout the trailer park, banging on doors and rounding up the idiots who tried to flee. In an abandoned trailer, another deputy questioned meth-heads coherent enough to speak. My ex-deputy was noticeably absent.

Will nodded thoughtfully. “Getting caught in the middle of a drug feud is pretty bad.”

I hadn’t mentioned my trucker escapades. At this point, I figured one more threatening stalker wouldn’t make a difference. The Sheriff’s Office would put a watch on me either way.

“At least Miss Gladys is in the hospital,” I said. “I won’t worry about her safety now.”

“And Jerell is tucked away with a family,” he added. “That’s good.”

“Do you know where Jerell is?” I could tell by Will’s face even if he did know Jerell’s whereabouts, I wouldn’t learn the answer. I felt my eyes smarting again. I bit my lip hard and glowered at the trailer. “Do you think Regis Sharp killed Tyrone?”

“It’s a possibility,” said Will. “They could have arranged a meeting at the rest stop. Wouldn’t put it past them. Maybe Tyrone thought he could give Sharp wire instead of money. Words were said. Sharp shot him. Maybe out of anger. Maybe to make an example out of Tyrone.”

“Is Sharp a suspect?”

“Most definitely. I want that bugger anyhow. His men are in and out of prison on possession or intent to distribute. Regis Sharp is hard to catch. I’d need a weapons match, though. You say he had a Ruger?”

“That’s my best guess.” I fell forward to lean my head against the dash. “What am I going to do? A BMW has been following me around town. You think that’s Sharp?”

Uncle Will rubbed his forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier, hon’?”

“I told Luke a few nights ago. Everything happened so fast.”

“I want you out of town. Are you still working that job in Buckhead?” He noted my nod. “I’ll pay for a hotel up there. I can bring in Regis Sharp and hold him on your testimony. I know a judge who is dying to get rid of this sonofabitch.”

“I don’t want you paying for a hotel. The lawyer offered to room me anyway. I turned him down because he’s a control freak and his decorating hurts my eyes. And I had stuff going on here.”

Which I didn’t anymore, I thought sadly. The Coderres had been dispersed. I couldn’t find the photos and Shawna’s plan had advanced past the stopping point. My siblings had taken over my studio. Max had abandoned me. Ernie Pike wanted to permanently shut me up. And now Regis Sharp had his eye on me.

“Did you check into that guy, Sam, at the SipNZip?” I asked. “The one who looks like the hijacker?”

“Sure, hon’,” said Will.

“Max Avtaikin owns the SipNZip.”

“Yes, I know.” Will’s attention had reverted to his deputies and the Ziploc bags of goods they stacked on the trunk of a car. “You should get going now.”

“I can’t take Casey’s Firebird to Atlanta. I’ll have to call Nik to pick me up. I don’t know where he is.”

“Don’t worry about that, sugar.”

“I should go visit Miss Gladys in the hospital first. Check on her. And I’m supposed to give Miss Wanda some posters.”

“I’m giving you an escort,” said Will. He glanced in the rearview at the sound of a vehicle rolling to a stop behind us. “Here he is. No arguments. Run your errands and then he’ll drive you to Atlanta.”

I twisted in my seat to glance out the back window and spun back around to glare at Uncle Will.

“You do have a choice,” Will smirked. “Luke as your babysitter or sit tight in the drunk tank until I can take you to Atlanta myself.”

“That isn’t a fair choice. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I know, hon’. I just want you safe until we get Regis Sharp.”

“Thank
you for taking me to see Miss Gladys.” I spoke with my chin lifted and eyes fixed on the bug splattered windshield.

If I had sat any more rigidly, my shoulder blades might have slashed the truck’s leather bench. “And I appreciate you swinging by the farm so I can say goodbye to Grandpa. Although I’m not sure he cares.”

In Luke’s pickup, we had chased my errands in unnatural silence. The kind of atmosphere that makes your neck prickly, legs twitchy, and mouth ready to spew any word that hops out of your brain.

I knew Luke well enough to know this silence meant some intense feelings gripped his psyche. I tried to ignore that knowledge. Mixed with my wounded pride were other hurts like rejection and a seething anger at Luke for calling DFACs on the Coderres. Of course, if Jerell had been home when the house had been ransacked by Latisha and the Sharps...

I couldn’t let myself think about that possibility.

“Thank you also for taking me to your momma’s house to drop off those posters,” I continued in the manner taught to me by my Grandma Jo. I waited out Luke’s no comment before persisting. “I believe Miss Wanda was pleased with the posters. You might not realize that in creating those signs, I have done the equivalent of career hari kari. Except less bloody.”

“The posters looked fine to me,” said Luke. “Don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about them. Just a photo of a Greek statue and some words.”

“It’s not the execution that will ruin me. Lord knows I should be able to hand letter a piece of poster board after four years of art school. And I did save myself embarrassment by replacing Shawna’s Photoshop of my paintings by replacing them with photos of the original Greek statues.”

I paused and blew a disgusted sigh from my nose. “Why can’t you see Shawna is trying to ruin me with this Concerned Citizens Committee?”

“I do my best to ignore this ridiculous feud between you two. That’s what keeps me sane. Y’all put me in the middle, and I’m trying to step out of it.”

“Have you ever asked her why she hates me?” I glanced at his stiff grip on the steering wheel and then to his stony profile. His jawline could chop wood. “Why she goes to such lengths to humiliate me? You know she’s taken Mr. Max to shop the churches today with abstractions of my paintings?”

“I try to avoid the subject of you when I’m around her. And I’m around her a lot. She’s always at my mom’s house. That’s why I didn’t get involved at Avtaikin’s house last night.”

I pressed a hand to my temple and shifted my body to look out the window. Pastures interspersed with forests flew by. A fox carrying a critter in his mouth paused in a ditch to wait out our passage.

“Why are you worried about Shawna when you were practically held hostage today?” Luke ground out the words. “You should be worried about Regis Sharp, not Shawna.”

“I agreed to get out of town, didn’t I? I let Uncle Will talk me into driving around with you, for goodness sakes.”

“You want to drive yourself around? After what happened today?”

I twisted to face him. “You’re blaming me for this? I brought a sick, elderly woman groceries. No one else was looking out for her. I can’t be scared of people like Regis Sharp when someone like Miss Gladys is alone and ill. She would have died if I hadn’t been there. And Jerell would have nobody.”

“I know.” He pulled his hand off the wheel to rub his eyes.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” he said roughly. “Of course not. And I don’t think it’s your fault. If anything, it’s my fault.”

“How is this your fault?” I pulled my knees onto the seat. “What’s going on with you?”

“I can’t talk about the investigation.” His glance flashed a hint of dull silver. “It’s beyond our department. Don’t ask me anything about the hijacking.”

He looked away, but not before I caught a wet gleam.

“I screwed up,” he said. “First with not putting a tail on Tyrone Coderre. Then for not putting somebody in Sweetgum to watch that trailer. I got Tyrone killed and put Jerell, Miss Gladys, and now you in jeopardy.”

I kept my thoughts to myself while I watched him hammer the steering wheel and curse greater obscenities than those used by the sailors who caroused the riverfront of Savannah. When he had finished, I laid a hand on his thigh. After a long minute, he slipped his hand in mine, crushing my fingers in his grip.

We continued toward the farm in silence, our hands speaking for what could not be said. As we neared the lane, Luke slowed his truck, and I squinted at the object parked further down the road.

“Wait,” I said, pulling my hand from his to point. “There’s that hatchback parked down the road. That idiot. Parked on the side of a county road.”

Luke flipped me his phone. “Dial 9-1-1 and repeat what I say to the dispatcher.”

“I can’t believe this,” I said, punching the buttons on his phone. “Spying on my Grandpa’s farm in broad daylight? How did he think nobody would see him? So stupid.”

“Quit complaining about their surveillance techniques and tell the dispatcher 10-80, pursuit in progress. Requesting assistance now.”