Read Online Harley Jean Davidson 03 - Evil Elvis by Virginia Brown - Free Book Online
Authors: Virginia Brown
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about Leroy? He’s dead.”
So she knew. And apparently hid her grief well.
“Yes,” Harley said, “I know. Please let me offer my condolences and assure you that the company is cooperating fully with the police to find his murderer.”
“Yeah, yeah. So how much money are you offering?”
Harley blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Money. A settlement. You’re with the insurance company, right?”
“No, with the tour bus company. Your husband was on our bus.”
“In that stupid Elvis getup, I guess.” She blew a stream of cigarette smoke in Harley’s face and snorted. “Dumb bastard. Leroy never had a lick of sense anyway. Always off spending good money on shit like that instead of groceries. That’s why I threw his ass out last year. Not good for nothin’ around here.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “But he left me with his kids, so maybe I need to sue the tour bus company for letting that good-for-nothing idiot get killed.”
A little boy peeked at Harley from behind Mrs. Jenkins, big brown eyes wide and his hair hanging over his eyebrows. All he wore was a pair of ragged blue shorts. Behind him, bare floors were littered with empty cereal boxes and discarded clothes. Flies buzzed and a window air conditioner competed with the heat. Home sweet home. It made Harley greatly appreciate her parents, for all their flaws.
“Mr. Jenkins didn’t live here? I was given this address—”
“Just told you. Threw his ass out last year. Why are you here if not to offer money?”
“I’m gathering any information that might assist the police in apprehending his killer. As I said—”
“I don’t care nothin’ about that. He probably got what he deserved. All I’m interested in is how much money I’m gonna get to support his kids. It’ll be the first time he’s ever helped out, that’s for damn sure.”
The little boy clinging to his mother made a sniffling sound, and Harley saw his lips quiver and his eyes fill with tears. That made her mad.
“You know, Mrs. Jenkins, whatever your problems with your late husband, I’m sure his children loved him, so maybe we can discuss this in private.”
“Hell, his kids know what a rotten bastard he was, so no point in—”
“Step outside and close the damn door,” Harley snapped, “or I’ll report to the insurance adjusters that you’re uncooperative.” She had no idea if she could do anything of the kind or if it’d matter anyway, but this troll of a woman obviously needed to be dealt with in language she’d understand.
It must have worked, because she shoved the little boy back into the house and closed the door. Then she turned to look at Harley, arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. She had an expression like a thwarted weasel.
Well, that didn’t matter, because Harley had experience with weasels, too, and she intended to get the information she needed.
By the time she left, she’d learned that Leroy Jenkins had moved in with a roommate in Frayser, that he worked erratically as a mechanic at a repair shop on Watkins, and that he’d been attending Elvis competitions for five years. He’d been a favorite last year, making the finals.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. As far as she’d learned, neither man knew each other, at least not well, but must have been acquainted with one another at the competitions. Maybe she needed to investigate the competitions next, how they were conducted, prizes offered, etcetera.
Yogi should be able to help with that.
* * * *
“ There’s a Super Bowl competition for Elvis impersonators?” Harley had to keep from rolling her eyes, speaking loudly to be heard over the whine of Yogi’s electric treadmill.
“Yep,” her father replied, puffing a little as he tried to keep up with the treadmill, “it’s called an ETA Super Bowl and it’s held in Memphis at the Images of the King competition. This
So she knew. And apparently hid her grief well.
“Yes,” Harley said, “I know. Please let me offer my condolences and assure you that the company is cooperating fully with the police to find his murderer.”
“Yeah, yeah. So how much money are you offering?”
Harley blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Money. A settlement. You’re with the insurance company, right?”
“No, with the tour bus company. Your husband was on our bus.”
“In that stupid Elvis getup, I guess.” She blew a stream of cigarette smoke in Harley’s face and snorted. “Dumb bastard. Leroy never had a lick of sense anyway. Always off spending good money on shit like that instead of groceries. That’s why I threw his ass out last year. Not good for nothin’ around here.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “But he left me with his kids, so maybe I need to sue the tour bus company for letting that good-for-nothing idiot get killed.”
A little boy peeked at Harley from behind Mrs. Jenkins, big brown eyes wide and his hair hanging over his eyebrows. All he wore was a pair of ragged blue shorts. Behind him, bare floors were littered with empty cereal boxes and discarded clothes. Flies buzzed and a window air conditioner competed with the heat. Home sweet home. It made Harley greatly appreciate her parents, for all their flaws.
“Mr. Jenkins didn’t live here? I was given this address—”
“Just told you. Threw his ass out last year. Why are you here if not to offer money?”
“I’m gathering any information that might assist the police in apprehending his killer. As I said—”
“I don’t care nothin’ about that. He probably got what he deserved. All I’m interested in is how much money I’m gonna get to support his kids. It’ll be the first time he’s ever helped out, that’s for damn sure.”
The little boy clinging to his mother made a sniffling sound, and Harley saw his lips quiver and his eyes fill with tears. That made her mad.
“You know, Mrs. Jenkins, whatever your problems with your late husband, I’m sure his children loved him, so maybe we can discuss this in private.”
“Hell, his kids know what a rotten bastard he was, so no point in—”
“Step outside and close the damn door,” Harley snapped, “or I’ll report to the insurance adjusters that you’re uncooperative.” She had no idea if she could do anything of the kind or if it’d matter anyway, but this troll of a woman obviously needed to be dealt with in language she’d understand.
It must have worked, because she shoved the little boy back into the house and closed the door. Then she turned to look at Harley, arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. She had an expression like a thwarted weasel.
Well, that didn’t matter, because Harley had experience with weasels, too, and she intended to get the information she needed.
By the time she left, she’d learned that Leroy Jenkins had moved in with a roommate in Frayser, that he worked erratically as a mechanic at a repair shop on Watkins, and that he’d been attending Elvis competitions for five years. He’d been a favorite last year, making the finals.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. As far as she’d learned, neither man knew each other, at least not well, but must have been acquainted with one another at the competitions. Maybe she needed to investigate the competitions next, how they were conducted, prizes offered, etcetera.
Yogi should be able to help with that.
* * * *
“ There’s a Super Bowl competition for Elvis impersonators?” Harley had to keep from rolling her eyes, speaking loudly to be heard over the whine of Yogi’s electric treadmill.
“Yep,” her father replied, puffing a little as he tried to keep up with the treadmill, “it’s called an ETA Super Bowl and it’s held in Memphis at the Images of the King competition. This
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