Chapter 6
Bess
“One daily special and a decaf vanilla latte for table four.”
Today’s special is a hearty black bean, chorizo, and vegetable soup with cheese and jalapeno cornbread. I’m almost out of both already.
Lola is off today, so it’s just Emmet and me handling the lunch crowd.
It’s busy, so Emmet is doing all the serving and the coffee machine, while I prep and plate food.
At this point, I’m running on automatic pilot, but I did notice Buck Wilson at the small table by the window.
I’ve been rehashing last night ever since he sat down.
Sadly, the glass of wine I had with dinner did nothing to help me sleep, nor did the memorable kiss at my door. Unfortunately, I think after Ken’s call my sleepless night was already a given. This time he didn’t even bother with fake pleasantries and dove straight into the threats.
When he initially called, it was a shock he made an effort to seek me out, but even more so that he’d apparently been paroled last month.
I don’t even know how he got my number; I meant it when I said I distanced myself from him all those years ago.
I wanted nothing to do with him or anybody associated with him, and that included his defense lawyer.
There was no one to notify me he’d even went up before the parole board.
But the biggest shock came when he stopped pretending he called to make sure I was okay, and shared the real reason he chased me down.
Money.
When our mother died, almost ten years ago now, I was surprised to find she’d left me some money.
Well, according to her will, it was technically money my father had left in trust for me.
I never knew my father and didn’t know anything about the money, she’d never mentioned it.
She didn’t leave much herself, a few thousand in a savings account, and some family heirlooms she’d divided between Ken and myself.
But my father’s money had grown to a little over a hundred thousand over the years.
At the time, I had been fairly recently declared cancer-free, and I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
The money gave me the opportunity to fulfill a dream I’d had of starting my own small business, which I finally did eight years ago when I opened Strange Brew.
And that is precisely what is at stake now; my coffee shop.
My brother’s lawyer must’ve received a copy of our mother’s will with his share of her estate to keep in trust, that’s why Ken knew about the money my father left me when he called. It’s what he was after.
He told me he needed to disappear, get out of the country. Apparently, his former gang, the Lotus Squad, had it out for him. He asked if I forgot that I owed him.
The kicker is, I do owe him. Even when he was up to his eyeballs into Lotus Squad business, he still managed to be protective over his little sister. I still have nightmares to this day, so no, I’ll never forget what he did for me. I pay with my guilty silence.
But, like I told him that first time, I don’t have the money anymore; it’s invested in my coffee shop.
I knew it was too much to hope for he’d let it go, so last night he turned the pressure up.
This time he tried to blackmail me, threatening to throw me under the bus with the gang.
He suggested they probably already know where I am, and all he’d have to do is enlighten them of my involvement.
I tell you; it scared the shit out of me.
I know all too well how ruthless they can be, it’s what got me in this predicament in the first place.
But I can’t see myself selling Strange Brew, which is what Ken suggested. When Hugo caught me on the phone, I was just trying to tell my brother as much. The phone calls didn’t let up all night after I’d hung up on him, so I finally blocked the number he’d been calling me from.
It was a lot quieter but, unfortunately, it didn’t help me sleep.
I spent most of the night trying to think of other ways I might be able to raise some money for him, but there’s no way to do that without involving Strange Brew.
Of course, should he decide to point the Lotus Squad in my direction, it’ll all be moot anyway.
I was so tempted to confide in Hugo last night, to just lay it all out in the open and let the cards fall where they may, but I couldn’t. I can’t. There’s no way I could do that to him, lay that kind of burden on him. I’d sooner sell the shop and disappear myself.
I’ll treasure that kiss last night, but I’m afraid it can’t happen again.
No, I’m going to somehow have to resolve this on my own and be careful not to involve anyone else. It’s a terribly lonely feeling.
“Is that for table four?” Emmet asks.
On a whim, I slip around him with the black bean soup and cornbread on a tray.
“I’ve got this.”
I shoot a smile at him before making my way to Buck’s table. He’s reading something on his phone when I walk up.
“Bessie… how did you like the new restaurant? Sorry again for interrupting last night.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I assure him before answering. “Yeah, nice, and the food was really good.”
“Sure is,” he confirms, dipping his spoon in the soup. “As is yours, my dear.”
“It’s just soup,” I remind him, with a self-deprecating chuckle. “No culinary handstands here.”
“Nothing wrong with wholesome grub, don’t sell yourself short.”
I shrug, never quite sure what to do with a compliment, and quickly change topics.
“You mentioned a dog last night…”
Buck drops his spoon and completely twists around.
“You want him?”
I lift my hands defensively. “Not so fast. I’d…I think maybe I’d like to meet him though.”
“Absolutely. This afternoon?”
“Well…umm…I guess. It would have to be after I close up here.”
The moment I set foot in the door, I’m almost bowled over by a mostly blond, knee-high, hairy whirlwind, trying to jump up on me.
“Easy, boy,” Buck walks up, scolding the dog as he grabs him by the collar.
The dog’s pink tongue is lolling from his mouth as he seems to be smiling up at me, his big paws clawing at the air in his attempts to get to me.
“He’s already taken a shine to you,” Buck points out.
“Wait…”
This is the puppy he was talking about? If he’s this big now, what kind of giant will he turn into?
I’m pretty sure when Buck mentioned the pup last night, he said something about it not being too big. He also mentioned the animal being underfed. I beg to differ on both accounts. I’m willing to bet this dog never missed a meal in his life.
“This is him? The malnourished puppy you were referring to?”
Buck at least has the grace to look a bit sheepish.
“Well, he was mighty hungry when I got him out of that box.”
“Must’ve been a refrigerator box,” I mumble, but I can’t resist holding out my hand, which immediately is bathed in puppy love.
I have to admit, he seems like a sweet boy.
“He’s only three months old?”
The older man shrugs. “Maybe a month or two older.”
Obviously Buck is not averse to tweaking the facts a little to get his foot in the door. It clearly worked on me. I was expecting a little fluffy thing.
“He’s got a lot of fur.”
The dog shifts slightly to sit on my feet and lean against my legs, as I scratch him behind the ears. In my head I’m already trying to fit him into my life.
“It’s hair, actually. He doesn’t shed,” Buck explains. “I’m pretty sure he’s some kind of doodle; part poodle, part whatever else. Hypoallergenic, most of them.”
That would certainly be helpful. Wouldn’t want to be covered in dog fur when you spend a lot of time in the kitchen.
I’m feeling myself getting sucked in more and more. No one to blame but me, I set myself up for this, even though I live in an apartment over a coffee and food establishment with no backyard. What was I thinking?
Of course, that doesn’t stop me from asking, “What’s his name?”
“Doesn’t have one. You can name him yourself.”
Half an hour later, when I drive home with my trunk filled with a bed, some toys, and a massive bag of food, I glance in my rearview mirror at Ragnar, the giant blond puppy, and wonder once again what the hell I was thinking?
To be honest, I’m not sure there was a lot of thinking involved, just an impulsive need to have something warm, something alive and happy to see me. Something for me to hold on to when I feel I’m teetering on the precipice of my carefully crafted life collapsing.
I must be nuts.
Hugo
I look up and close my laptop when Savvy stops by my desk.
“Hey, I didn’t expect you in. How are you doing?” I ask her.
“I’m fine, baby is fine.” She sits down heavily in the visitor’s chair across from me.
“It’s embarrassing, really. Had some cramping last night, which turned out to be nothing, but when they took my blood pressure at the hospital it was a bit high.
Because of my advanced maternal age…” She uses air quotes, highlighting the term.
“They gave me something and kept me overnight for monitoring. Numbers were fine this morning, so I was sent home but was told I’d have to take it easy. ”
I raise a mocking eyebrow and glance at my watch, which shows it’s coming up on three o’clock. “And you lasted ’til now?”
“Don’t you start. Nate had me lie on the couch and was hovering over me most of the day. Thank God, he had a meeting about a new job this afternoon.”
“And I bet the moment he was gone; you were off that couch and heading for the door yourself.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, well…turns out he knows me well. Apparently, he called Brenda to keep an eye out for me. She was waiting for me and already gave me an earful about being careful, but it’s not like I’ll be chasing bad guys.
Sounds like you guys caught some excitement yesterday though.
I saw Althof when I was leaving the hospital this morning and he filled me in. ”
I lean back and stretch, folding my arms behind my head.
Rick Althof, who’d been put in charge of the investigation, had been out of town for a couple of days dealing with some stuff in Coeur d’Alene.
He hadn’t been briefed until he came in this morning and immediately left for the hospital to check on Chance Tanek’s condition.
“Yeah. That was a crazy scene. I’ve dealt with Chance since I started here as a rookie, but I’ve never seen anything like what happened last night. You should’ve seen Mrs. Dixon, she was cool and collected, and handled that situation like a pro.”
“Rick says he was injured worse than you guys thought?”
“Yeah. Clem just got there; we’d been waiting for him.
Then suddenly Mrs. Dixon alerts us Chance collapsed.
Apparently, when he’d crashed through her kitchen door, he’d not only cut his arm—which we could see—but a large shard of glass was embedded in his side.
He was hopped up on adrenaline and probably booze, and had been quietly bleeding out as he sat there, holding Mrs. Dixon hostage. ”
“Rick mentioned he was hoping to talk with him this morning. Have you heard anything?”
“No luck, so far,” I fill her in. “He’s conscious, but alcohol withdrawal is apparently complicating things. Last I heard he had started hallucinating and they were medicating him. Doesn’t look like we’ll get information from him any time soon.”
Savvy leans forward in her chair. “Think he’s responsible?”
“For setting the fire? I mean, it’s possible. He might feel he got cheated out of his share of the business, and we know things have been strained between him and his brother,” I point out, although that explanation doesn’t feel right.
Even less so after running it over and over again in my head all day long.
It appears Savvy agrees, as she shakes her head. “That was six years ago, why on earth would he lose it now?”
I wouldn’t know, but then again, I have no idea what would drive a man to sacrifice his life to alcohol either. I guess anything is possible.
“Beats me.”
She slaps her hands on her knees before getting to her feet.
“Anything else brewing?” she wants to know.
“The lights on Main and Severance were out again, so I have Solingate out there directing traffic until Public Works shows up. It’s been over three hours,” I grumble.
Public Works is probably too big a title for a department that, over the past three years, has been whittled down to four employees.
It’s frustrating, because the money saved by those budget cuts our esteemed mayor deemed necessary now come out of our department’s slim county budget, seeing as we have to pay one of the deputies to handle traffic for half a day.
“Why don’t you let me handle City Hall?” Savvy offers.
“Gladly.”
She definitely has more patience than I do dealing with Mayor Don Merrick or any of his pencil pushers, so I’m happy to hand off that job.
She starts to walk away when she suddenly stops and turns, fixing a pointed look on the laptop in front of me.
“What were you working on when I walked in?”
Caught off guard, it takes me a moment to react.
“Just looking over some old cases.”
She lifts her eyes to mine and for a moment I wonder if she’s going to push for more, but she finally nods and continues to her office.
Technically, I’m not lying, but it’s still a severe misrepresentation of the truth, which makes me feel uncomfortable. Especially since Savvy already appears to have that disappointed-mother look down pat.
But Savvy and Bess are the best of friends, and if Savvy knew I was digging up Bess’s family history, she might feel compelled to share that fact with Bess, and I’d prefer for her not to know. At least not yet.
For now, all I was looking for was some background information to better understand what might have put the fear in her eyes after she spoke to her brother. What I got was far more than I bargained for.
Kenneth Choi was just released on parole from a twenty-year stint in prison for an assortment of crimes ranging from drug smuggling, to assault, to robberies, and the list goes on.
And those were just the crimes he’d been convicted of.
The guy was a known member of the Lotus Squad and, from what I can tell, was suspected to have had involvement in much more than those charges.
The fact that a known gangbanger—brother or not—is blowing up Bess’s phone does not exactly fill me with the warm and fuzzies. It can mean nothing good. But I’m afraid if I confront her straight up, she’ll simply shut me out and push me away, which would make it much harder to keep an eye on her.
I’d much prefer for her to volunteer the information, and that will require diplomacy; an attribute I wasn’t exactly blessed with.