Read Online Dead Girl Moon by Charlie Price - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlie Price
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dad said, standing abruptly and jerking the cooler open. He grabbed the borderline milk and set it down too hard, sloshing some on the table. Snatched the lunch meat and package of cheese, pitched them alongside the milk. “Get the peanut butter and that grape crap.”
Mick hurried to retrieve the sandwich fixings. His dad was mad. Mad at Mick, mad at the body, mad at the world. Mick didn’t get it. If his dad had stayed put and just worked, he could have had his own shop by now. Maybe even his own home. You don’t make money stealing. Can’t ever fence it for what it’s worth, but arguing with his dad had never changed anything.
Fitz’s credo was live by your wits. If you’re smart enough to find it and keep it, it’s yours. Boasted that he’d never been arrested. “Dumb crooks get caught.”
Was it the drugs that screwed up his dad’s thinking? Lots of thieves got caught. Got jail time. For what? Nickels and dimes. His dad had a streak of outlaw in him. Gave Fitz pleasure to poke the law with a stick. Mick could feel it. Just a matter of time before “luck” ran out and one or both of them went to jail. Mick could kiss his life goodbye. What was a college degree from a penitentiary worth?
* * *
After the meal, Fitz left in the car, a familiar pattern. Making connections to sell what he took, Mick guessed, but his dad could have been looking for people who sold his kind of pills. Or maybe he just went to different bars, drank and played cards. Usually Mick smelled liquor on his dad’s breath in the morning. Did his dad go looking for women? Did he give them money?
Mick was surprised to think that in several major ways, he hardly knew the man. As Mick got older, he and Fitz had sort of evolved into roommates. His father came and went, did as he pleased, rarely told Mick what he was thinking or doing. If his dad fled again, Mick wondered if he’d even miss him.
24
M ICK ASKED G RACE TO GO UP to Skinny’s with him to see if there happened to be any news about the body. JJ went, too, but at a distance. She wandered behind, looking at the sky and the illuminated signs along the highway.
He could smell the french fries cooking a hundred yards away. Knots of kids were hanging out together around the building, swatting bugs and sipping Cokes. As Mick got close, he could hear the buzz.
“From Plains … last year … Evans? Edmonds?… graduated…”
Mick glanced at Grace. No sign. Had she seen the girl before? He knew he hadn’t. They stood around. Listened. Mick bought a coffee and shared it.
“Sounds like she could have worked in the café. You know her?” Mick talked low, right in Grace’s ear. He wished he’d visited the café. At least once. Bought a cup of coffee. Watched Grace work. Left her a good tip.
“I might’ve seen her. Probably not,” she whispered back, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
He knew right then she was lying. Didn’t he? Wanting Grace, acting cool to impress her, kept him from asking more questions that could have made a difference. Mr. Hammond owned the Rock Point Motel and Grill on the north end as well as the motel and café in town. He was somehow connected with county social services, assisted with foster care placements, and provided a fair number of jobs to teenagers. He liked to hire good-looking girls. The more Mick thought about it, how could Grace not have at least met the girl?
“Didn’t she even look familiar?” he asked.
“I didn’t really look at her,” Grace said. “Too creepy.” She shook her head. “Nobody’s safe,” she said, annoyed.
A girl in the group of kids next to them said, “You got that right,” not realizing that Grace was talking to Mick.
They’d been whispering, maybe not soft enough. Mick looked around but everybody seemed zeroed in on their own friends. He took Grace’s hand and they edged a little closer to one of the bigger groups, blending, catching the news. “… Drowned?… waitress …
Mick hurried to retrieve the sandwich fixings. His dad was mad. Mad at Mick, mad at the body, mad at the world. Mick didn’t get it. If his dad had stayed put and just worked, he could have had his own shop by now. Maybe even his own home. You don’t make money stealing. Can’t ever fence it for what it’s worth, but arguing with his dad had never changed anything.
Fitz’s credo was live by your wits. If you’re smart enough to find it and keep it, it’s yours. Boasted that he’d never been arrested. “Dumb crooks get caught.”
Was it the drugs that screwed up his dad’s thinking? Lots of thieves got caught. Got jail time. For what? Nickels and dimes. His dad had a streak of outlaw in him. Gave Fitz pleasure to poke the law with a stick. Mick could feel it. Just a matter of time before “luck” ran out and one or both of them went to jail. Mick could kiss his life goodbye. What was a college degree from a penitentiary worth?
* * *
After the meal, Fitz left in the car, a familiar pattern. Making connections to sell what he took, Mick guessed, but his dad could have been looking for people who sold his kind of pills. Or maybe he just went to different bars, drank and played cards. Usually Mick smelled liquor on his dad’s breath in the morning. Did his dad go looking for women? Did he give them money?
Mick was surprised to think that in several major ways, he hardly knew the man. As Mick got older, he and Fitz had sort of evolved into roommates. His father came and went, did as he pleased, rarely told Mick what he was thinking or doing. If his dad fled again, Mick wondered if he’d even miss him.
24
M ICK ASKED G RACE TO GO UP to Skinny’s with him to see if there happened to be any news about the body. JJ went, too, but at a distance. She wandered behind, looking at the sky and the illuminated signs along the highway.
He could smell the french fries cooking a hundred yards away. Knots of kids were hanging out together around the building, swatting bugs and sipping Cokes. As Mick got close, he could hear the buzz.
“From Plains … last year … Evans? Edmonds?… graduated…”
Mick glanced at Grace. No sign. Had she seen the girl before? He knew he hadn’t. They stood around. Listened. Mick bought a coffee and shared it.
“Sounds like she could have worked in the café. You know her?” Mick talked low, right in Grace’s ear. He wished he’d visited the café. At least once. Bought a cup of coffee. Watched Grace work. Left her a good tip.
“I might’ve seen her. Probably not,” she whispered back, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
He knew right then she was lying. Didn’t he? Wanting Grace, acting cool to impress her, kept him from asking more questions that could have made a difference. Mr. Hammond owned the Rock Point Motel and Grill on the north end as well as the motel and café in town. He was somehow connected with county social services, assisted with foster care placements, and provided a fair number of jobs to teenagers. He liked to hire good-looking girls. The more Mick thought about it, how could Grace not have at least met the girl?
“Didn’t she even look familiar?” he asked.
“I didn’t really look at her,” Grace said. “Too creepy.” She shook her head. “Nobody’s safe,” she said, annoyed.
A girl in the group of kids next to them said, “You got that right,” not realizing that Grace was talking to Mick.
They’d been whispering, maybe not soft enough. Mick looked around but everybody seemed zeroed in on their own friends. He took Grace’s hand and they edged a little closer to one of the bigger groups, blending, catching the news. “… Drowned?… waitress …
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