Shake Down Dead (6 page)

“Okay, I get it. I have no desire to be
left at the bar or worse, sit in your truck at an accident
site.”

I pulled my keys from the pocket of my
jeans, kissed him on the cheek and walked down the driveway to my
car. I had been in such a big hurry when I got home that I hadn’t
even put it in the garage. I backed down the drive and saw that
Decker had turned his truck around and was waiting for me to follow
him.

When we arrived, I saw that the Cozy
Corner parking lot was almost full. We drove up and down the three
aisles of cars until we found a place to park. I took the spot
closest to the front—second row on the far right, almost in the
wooded area that ringed the bar.

Decker found a place further back and I
waited for him to walk up close to my car before I opened my door.
We walked arm in arm to the bar. Decker paid the $5.00 cover charge
and we looked around for a place to sit in the crowded
bar.

Most of the tables were occupied. Some
were pushed together for groups of six, eight or more. I spotted
Lisa and Randy at one of the big tables. Randy was wearing a Burger
King crown that said “Happy Birthday.” In the middle of the table
were several pizzas, one with two fat number candles in the
middle—a four and an eight. I wondered what had happened to his
heart-shaped meat loaf. We waved when we walked by and kept moving
toward a small table we spotted in the corner.

We squeezed our way through the crowd,
laughing when we plopped down on the chairs. The smoky room was
filled with noisy people eating and drinking. The jukebox added to
the din. Decker picked up the menus stuck between the ketchup and
mustard bottles and gave me one.

A waitress wearing a size 2 t-shirt on
her size 4 frame winked at Decker. “What’ll you have,
good-looking?”

“I’ll have the Cowboy Burger and a
Leinenkugel beer,” Decker said Looking at the menu, I saw it was a
quarter pounder with aged cheddar cheese, smoked bacon, red onions,
and topped with BBQ sauce.

“What about you,” she asked me,
snapping her gum. I’ll have a Juicy Lucy and a berry wine
cooler.”

Looking at her nametag, Decker flashed
his best sexy smile at the waitress. “Becky, Honey, could you bring
the drinks first?”

“No problem, Chief. I’ll be right
back.”

“Chief?” I asked.

Decker laughed. “She knows I’m a cop.
Guess she thinks that I should be chief of police. Smart
gal.”

“Sure,” I snickered, “She also knows
how to get a good tip.”

“What’s a juicy Lucy?” Decker
asked.

I picked up the menu and read, “A chunk
of cheese surrounded by ground beef and cooked until the cheese
melts, resulting in a molten core of cheese within the patty. It’s
topped with finely chopped fried onions and served on a sesame bun.
Sounds tasty, doesn’t it?”

“Sounds dangerous, just like
you.”

Becky brought our drinks and we settled
in talking and sipping. Cathy’s burgers are hand made from scratch,
nothing pre-made, so it took a little while for Becky to bring our
order. While we waited, Decker asked, “So, who was that guy you
were cuddling up with this afternoon?”

“I knew you were going to do this. Do I
have to explain myself?”

“Yes, you do. I thought that we had an
exclusive relationship. Are you seeing other men?”

“Jerry, you never said anything about
our relationship being exclusive. When did this happen?”

Decker reached across the table and
enveloped my hand in his. “The day I meet you, Jennifer. I saw your
pretty eyes and you were so upset after finding that body, you
couldn’t even stand up.”

“Funny, you never mentioned it to me.”
I had been upset but that’s not why I couldn’t stand up. I took one
look at Decker and got weak in the knees. I sure wasn’t going to
mention that to him. It really hurt when Edwin the Louse, dumped me
for a younger, prettier woman. I was taking this relationship slow.
Very slow.

Just then Becky arrived with our order.
“Wait a few minutes before you start eating.” she said to me. “The
cheese in that burger is hot as lava. Don’t burn your mouth when
you eat it.”

I thanked her. She nodded and moved on
to the next table.

8

Decker cocked his head to one side and
looked at me. “Did you expect me to ask you to go steady? Do you
want to wear my class ring?”

“Geez, Decker. I love it when you’re so
romantic.”

“I aim to please.” He flashed that sexy
grin at me. “Come on, Jennifer. You know I turn you on.”

“You sure do. Except when you’re giving
me the third degree. Like now.” I was trying to lighten the mood,
which had gotten ‘way too serious for a country western bar.
Besides, with this scrumptious burger in front of me, I was more
hungry than romantic.

“Okay. Now tell me, who was the guy
with his arm around you?”

“Okay, Decker. If I tell you will you
let me eat my burger?”

When Decker nodded, I said, “Pete’s
just an old boyfriend from high school. This was the first time
I’ve seen him since he broke up with me in a letter after my family
moved to Illinois. Are you really jealous of Pete?”

“Well, no. But, he’s really tall. And
blond.”

Decker was about 5’9.” I realized that
he was self-conscious about his height even though I thought he was
perfect since I was only five foot two.

“He was a basketball star and the
quarterback on the football team. I think sports always came first
for him, even before girls and that’s something for a high school
kid. Besides, he was too tall. I like my man dark and uh, compact.
Does Pete really bother you?”

“No, not really,” he lied.

We ate our burgers in silence. The band
began to warm up and we couldn’t hear each other anymore s0
conversation was cut off.

When the music slowed to Travis Tritt’s
“Can I Trust You with My Heart?” I said to Decker, “Let’s
dance.”

“I’m not very good at dancing,” Decker
replied.

“That’s okay. Let’s just go out on the
dance floor and hug each other.”

We pushed back our chairs and weaved
our way through the tables to the minuscule dance floor. It was
very crowded, so no one was doing much more than hugging. We
cuddled through half of the song and then someone tapped Decker on
the shoulder.

“May I cut in?” Pete asked.

“No.” replied Decker.

“Jerry!” I said.

“Okay, okay, but not too close.” He
admonished Pete.

Pete folded me into his arms and we
swayed to a little two-step. “So, you and the cop. You two an
item?”

“Yes, we are,” I answered.

“Damn, JJ! Maybe I can change your
mind.” He bent down to kiss me.

I saw him coming, turned my head, and
stepped back. “No, Pete. I’m not your high school sweetheart
anymore.”

“Okay,” he said and sighed. “Don’t
think I’m giving up. You’re even more delicious looking than you
were in high school.”

“Whatever,” I replied hoping that he
would stop trying. He was a very tempting morsel himself. I
remembered how I had felt at the last time I danced with Pete. It
was a Homecoming Dance at Hermann High. I was his steady girl and
it was a dream date. He brought me a wrist corsage, two blue
carnations. He had even hired a limo. Pete sported a powder blue
tux with a ruffled shirt. Okay, it was hokey, but it was the style
then and he looked awesome. He even had a carnation boutonniere
that matched my flowers. I wore a strapless blue gown, just a shade
darker than his tuxedo.

I shook my head. No! I told myself.
That was a long time ago in another lifetime. Thankfully, the music
ended and I stepped back. Pete insisted on walking me back to our
table. Decker was sitting there, his chocolate-brown eyebrows
knitted together.

On the way, I passed a table with a
group sitting together. “Jennifer!” someone called. I turned my
head and saw Trudy and Ray. I waved and looked to see who else was
sitting with them. There was another couple who I recognized—Clara
and Vic Schmidt. They played in Ray’s Polka Band. Next to Clara, I
recognized Yvonne Jackson, Charlie’s mother. When I waved to her,
she just glowered at me. I wondered if I had offended her. Maybe
she just didn’t recognize me.

I made my way back to the table only to
find Pete pulling up an empty chair from another table and sitting
down with us. He waved to Becky and made a circular motion over the
table with his finger to indicate that he wanted another round for
of drinks.

“So,” he said looking at Decker. “Did
you arrest Harold?”

“Of course not,” Decker replied. “He
promised to pay for the windshield and we took him back to the
group home. I actually like the guy. He’s very
friendly.”

“That he is,” Pete agreed. “Did he give
you a hug when you brought him home?”

“Yeah, he did. Guess he was grateful
that we didn’t lock him up.” Decker’s face had turned a light
crimson.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Harold hugs
everyone. He’s a real friendly guy. It’s one of the characteristics
of Downs’ Syndrome—the Cadillac of mental retardation. If you have
to have a developmental disability, that’s the one you want.
Usually higher functioning and the easiest to get along with.
Harold is typical. He’s also stubborn and has a need to get his own
way.”

Decker smiled at me, “Just like some
other people I know.”

Just then, Becky brought our drinks, a
wine cooler for me and two Leinenkugels for the guys. Pete paid
her, waving at her to keep the change. She also dropped the check
for our dinner next to Decker.

“What’s with you guys drinking
Wisconsin beer?” I protested. “Doesn’t anyone drink the local
beer?”

“JJ, have you tasted the local beer?”
Pete asked.

“No. I’m not a beer drinker. It all
tastes nasty to me.”

Pete said, “Well, there you
go.”

9

I asked Pete if Whitney had been
located yet. “Not that I know of,” he said. “I left about an hour
after you did. I was off duty; just hung around to see what would
happen to Harold.”

“Jennifer,” Decker admonished me. “Are
you still on this kick? I’m sure she’s home by now.”

“Well, she wasn’t just before you
picked me up. I called her mother again and she said Whitney wasn’t
there.”

“What do you mean ‘again’?” asked
Decker. “How many times did you call that poor woman?”

“Only once,” I replied, looking down to
my hands in my lap.

“Then what did you mean when you said
‘again’?”

“I sort of stopped by on my way
home.”

Decker’s eyes were piercing and I was
getting really nervous. I knew he was going to lecture
me.

“The Wentworth’s condo isn’t anywhere
near where you live,” he snapped. “What did you say to that poor
woman? You probably scared her half to death!”

“I did not! And stop calling her ‘that
poor woman.’ She’s anything but poor. Mostly she’s half in the bag.
She said that Whitney usually meets some friends here on Saturday
nights.” I hated it when Decker made me feel like a little kid out
after curfew.

“Oh, so that’s why you wanted to come
here.” Decker looked around. “I should have known. You hate country
music.”

“And I thought it was because you
wanted to see me.” Pete gave Decker a smirk and I could see
Decker’s face darken.

“Pete, I didn’t know that you
frequented this place!” I exclaimed. “I’m concerned about Whitney.
Do you usually see her here on Saturday nights?” I was trying to
ignore Decker for a while until he cooled down.

“Yeah, most of the time,” Pete said.
“But I haven’t seen her tonight.”

“What about the friends she usually
meets?”

“Oh, the Plumpers?” he asked with a
grin.

“What are you talking about?” I
asked.

He had the decency to be embarrassed
when he answered, “You know, um, the three of them are sort of
overweight—you know, plump. I didn’t make it up. A guy I know
started it.”

“Shame on you and the friend who gave
them that name.” I said, looking daggers at him. “I hope there are
some eighteen-year-olds that call you ‘That old guy!’ Now, are any
of them here?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied sheepishly. “Two
of the usuals are up at the bar. At least they were when I first
got here. The other gal wasn’t here.”

He pointed to the end of the bar where
the two women were sitting. They had a birds-eye view of the entire
place, especially the front door.

The women were a little plump, which
was no reason to give them a derogatory name. I wasn’t sure they
were the two women whose pictures I had seen on Facebook. They were
much older, which was to be expected. One girl was chubby. The
other woman was decidedly overweight. They both wore make-up the
same as the high school pictures. Was blue eye-shadow “in” again? I
didn’t think so. They were both drinking tall drinks, which were
dark brown. No beer for these gals.