Read Online JJ08 - Blood Money by Michael Lister - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Lister
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order.
“Your dad, Judge Cox, and Mr. Hugh Glenn are always perfect gentlemen,” she said. “Your dad has never asked for anything. Judge either, except for one time when he had too much to drink and he begged me for anal before he puked and past out. Mr. Hugh . . .”
“What?”
“I can’t say it.”
“Sure you can. You can say anything. It’s all important and it helps me.”
“I can’t see how this will help . . . but he just likes to sniff me while he . . . you know . . . touches himself.
They’re all good men. I’m glad they’re our leaders. I think your dad’s a good sheriff, but I think Mr. Hugh would make a good one too.”
I nodded.
Balancing the suitcase of beer on the hood of his mower with one hand while steering the small back wheel with his other, the elderly man drove away, turning right on Second Street and disappearing behind the empty building that had once been a NAPA Auto Parts store.
“Ralph Long talks a lot, flirts, but never does anything. I think he’s gay.”
“ Pretty sure he is,” I said.
She looked around us then leaned in and lowered her voice. “The worst son of a bitch I’ve ever run across is Don Stockton.”
I nodded.
“And it was just you and Carla Jean? I asked. “Yep.”
“Not the third woman, the blonde, that––”
“Have no idea who she was. Wasn’t with us.”
“ Did you talk to her?”
She shook her head. “I think Carla Jean did. Hell, sounded like she let her in the house, but I never laid eyes on her. I’d talk to Ronald Potter. If he didn’t hire her she may’ve just been crashin’. Whatever she was doing . . . it got her killed, didn’t it?”
“It did.”
“So scary.” I nodded.
“That could’ve been me.”
“ I’m glad it wasn’t.”
Her face softened and she smiled and turned her head. “Thank you. That’s a sweet thing to say.”
We were quiet a moment, then I said, “Did anyone leave for a while and come back? Did anything out of the ordinary happen? Anything suspicious or strange?”
“Seemed like everybody was comin’ and goin’ but I can’t be too sure. I don’t remember a lot. I think somebody drugged me.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Y ou didn’t tell me Chris was such an ass to you last night,” Anna said.
“Told you I saw him.”
She smiled. “Good point.”
“Assumed you’d guess the rest,” I said.
“I should have. How could I have been married to him?”
We were sitting on the small back porch of my—now our trailer—watching the river swirl its way toward the bay, the soft glow of the setting sun gently tinging everything gold, purple, and pumpkin.
Evening was palpably present in everything, the air, the quiet, the cool and calm.
“Tell me about your day,” I said.
“Very, very ordinary. Missing you was the best and worst of it. Tell me about yours.”
I did.
“So you’re working on a murder where the victim is unknown and the body is stolen, an attempted suicide that might actually be attempted murder, a mother contemplating cutting short the little time she has left, and a warden who’s gonna fire you for being with me?”
“You left out the only thing that matters.”
“What’s that?” she said.
“I get to come home to you.”
“You do, you dear, sweet man, but are you sure you want me? I––”
“Never more certain of anything in my life.”
“Even with a baby on board, a psycho ex in tow, and the sin factor that could cost you your job?”
“I’ve waited my whole life for you.”
“ But––”
“And it was worth the wait.”
“Just so we’re clear there, Mr. Jordan, you know I love you the same way, right? Just because I didn’t get to declare it to the warden or choose you over my job . . . I love you with every single cell of me.”
I breathed that in, then kissed her.
We kissed for a while. The desultory noises of the river slowly floating by were the only ones I could hear beside the sweet, heavy sound of blood passion in my
“Your dad, Judge Cox, and Mr. Hugh Glenn are always perfect gentlemen,” she said. “Your dad has never asked for anything. Judge either, except for one time when he had too much to drink and he begged me for anal before he puked and past out. Mr. Hugh . . .”
“What?”
“I can’t say it.”
“Sure you can. You can say anything. It’s all important and it helps me.”
“I can’t see how this will help . . . but he just likes to sniff me while he . . . you know . . . touches himself.
They’re all good men. I’m glad they’re our leaders. I think your dad’s a good sheriff, but I think Mr. Hugh would make a good one too.”
I nodded.
Balancing the suitcase of beer on the hood of his mower with one hand while steering the small back wheel with his other, the elderly man drove away, turning right on Second Street and disappearing behind the empty building that had once been a NAPA Auto Parts store.
“Ralph Long talks a lot, flirts, but never does anything. I think he’s gay.”
“ Pretty sure he is,” I said.
She looked around us then leaned in and lowered her voice. “The worst son of a bitch I’ve ever run across is Don Stockton.”
I nodded.
“And it was just you and Carla Jean? I asked. “Yep.”
“Not the third woman, the blonde, that––”
“Have no idea who she was. Wasn’t with us.”
“ Did you talk to her?”
She shook her head. “I think Carla Jean did. Hell, sounded like she let her in the house, but I never laid eyes on her. I’d talk to Ronald Potter. If he didn’t hire her she may’ve just been crashin’. Whatever she was doing . . . it got her killed, didn’t it?”
“It did.”
“So scary.” I nodded.
“That could’ve been me.”
“ I’m glad it wasn’t.”
Her face softened and she smiled and turned her head. “Thank you. That’s a sweet thing to say.”
We were quiet a moment, then I said, “Did anyone leave for a while and come back? Did anything out of the ordinary happen? Anything suspicious or strange?”
“Seemed like everybody was comin’ and goin’ but I can’t be too sure. I don’t remember a lot. I think somebody drugged me.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Y ou didn’t tell me Chris was such an ass to you last night,” Anna said.
“Told you I saw him.”
She smiled. “Good point.”
“Assumed you’d guess the rest,” I said.
“I should have. How could I have been married to him?”
We were sitting on the small back porch of my—now our trailer—watching the river swirl its way toward the bay, the soft glow of the setting sun gently tinging everything gold, purple, and pumpkin.
Evening was palpably present in everything, the air, the quiet, the cool and calm.
“Tell me about your day,” I said.
“Very, very ordinary. Missing you was the best and worst of it. Tell me about yours.”
I did.
“So you’re working on a murder where the victim is unknown and the body is stolen, an attempted suicide that might actually be attempted murder, a mother contemplating cutting short the little time she has left, and a warden who’s gonna fire you for being with me?”
“You left out the only thing that matters.”
“What’s that?” she said.
“I get to come home to you.”
“You do, you dear, sweet man, but are you sure you want me? I––”
“Never more certain of anything in my life.”
“Even with a baby on board, a psycho ex in tow, and the sin factor that could cost you your job?”
“I’ve waited my whole life for you.”
“ But––”
“And it was worth the wait.”
“Just so we’re clear there, Mr. Jordan, you know I love you the same way, right? Just because I didn’t get to declare it to the warden or choose you over my job . . . I love you with every single cell of me.”
I breathed that in, then kissed her.
We kissed for a while. The desultory noises of the river slowly floating by were the only ones I could hear beside the sweet, heavy sound of blood passion in my
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