Chapter 21
Drifter
W e weren’t expecting to get much out of Bill Anderson other than to rattle his cage and see what comes out, but we’ve made it clear that we’re not going anywhere. The meeting with our lawyers was disappointing. She couldn’t tell us much more than what we already know about Brewer’s will, that the land and buildings were to be split between the Angels of Havoc and Tommy Johnson, with his daughter Skye inheriting in the event of his death. She informed us that with the ongoing investigation and all the other legal loopholes, it won’t be a fast process.
“We need to tell Skye that she’s a beneficiary of Brewer’s will, Angel,” I say the second we leave the lawyer's office.
“I know, and we will, but you heard the lawyer, nothing’s going to happen anytime soon,” Angel replies.
“Surely, it’s a good thing that the land will go to the club and Skye. She’s one of us,” I reason.
“That’s what’s worrying me,” Angel replies. “Why would Anderson have Brewer killed? He stood more chance of conning him into selling than us or Skye.”
“Well, that’s just it, maybe the cops are right, and the thieves weren’t there to hurt Brewer, he just caught them off-guard, and they hit him too hard,” Buzz says.
“Could be…” Angel says though I can tell something is troubling him. “Come on, let’s go speak with the cops and see what they’ve uncovered.”
At the station, we cram into a too-small room with several chairs with sagging cushions covered in faint stains, it’s the area used to speak with people who aren’t under interrogation and designed to seem less intimidating, and more welcoming. It misses the mark completely and I can tell we all feel on edge being here, but we need to do everything we can to catch the people responsible for Brewer’s death, we owe him that. The detective hands us each a cup of lukewarm coffee that tastes like dirt.
“Please, take a seat,” the cop says, sitting down himself, the chair straining under his enormous girth.
Angel and Buzz comply but Gunner and I remain standing, both of us the least comfortable around cops.
The officer waits a moment before realizing that we intend to stand, “Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug. “So, how can I help you, gentlemen? Do you have any further information since our conversation yesterday?”
“No. We were hoping you might have some leads or new information you could share with us,” Angel replies levelly.
“Fraid not, forensics have dusted for fingerprints, we’re waiting for results but nothing so far. Any thief who knows what they’re doing wears gloves though, so I don’t know how fruitful that will be, and of course, it could be someone who knew the victim and had been there before, so they could explain away any fingerprints. Without a murder weapon or eyewitnesses, we’re reliant on hoping there’s DNA evidence on the victim that can be linked to the perp, but the results take time. For now, I’ve got men going door-to-door to interview neighbors and see if they saw anything suspicious. Funny thing is, most folks who even agree to cooperate all mention that there are a lot of bikers hanging around.”
He fixes us with a stare it’s clear he doesn’t like us or trust motorcycle club members, in all honesty, the feeling is mutual.
“Was there nothing of interest at the scene at all?” Buzz asks.
The detective looks as though he’s contemplating whether or not to disclose to us as he scratches his chin, “After you boys said to check for any legal documents, wills, deeds, and what have you, my men found a signed agreement. Seems not too long before he died Mr. Nelson sold some of his land, or his barbecue joint, to be more precise.”
“The land left to the Angels of Havoc in his Last Will and Testament…” Angel says.
“Well, I don’t know about that, we didn’t find a will. But the document seems legitimate, we won’t be able to confirm that until it’s been analyzed, of course.
“Let me guess, it was Bill Anderson who bought it?” Buzz asks.
The detective shakes his head, “Some company name I’ve not heard of before. We’re looking for them as we speak.”
“You can bet Bill Anderson’s dirty fingers are all over this,” I mutter.
“Did you interview Bill Anderson yet?” Angel asks.
Again, the officer seems tempted to pull rank and play the ‘ongoing investigation card’ to avoid revealing any more information to us, especially when it concerns an important member of the public. But he obviously feels that we’re better off thinking Bill has no involvement than not since he says, “We did. He’s got a rock-solid alibi, he was out of town at a function that many high-profile people were attending, including the chief of police.”
While not surprising, we knew Anderson would try to distance himself as much as possible, it’s disappointing. After asking a few more questions, we thank the officer for his time and head out.
“Something’s not adding up here,” Buzz says. “Why would Anderson have Brewer killed if he knew he can’t inherit and if he’s already gotten him to sell? And why only half the land? Why not all of it?”
“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense,” I agree.
“I think it’s time we told Skye everything,” Angel says, his face grave.
As much as none of us want to admit it, Skye could be the missing piece in the puzzle. Though I can’t let myself believe she could be working against us, that there isn’t an innocent explanation.
As we pull up to the clubhouse, I see Veronica standing outside, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. Her eyes light up as she sees us.
“Just the man I was hoping to see!” she says to Angel, rushing over as he gets off his bike.
“Not now, Veronica,” Angel grunts.
“Oh, but you’re really going to want to hear what I have to tell you,” she simpers, grabbing his arm.
“I said, fuck off!” he growls, yanking his arms out of her grasp.
She pouts but is undisturbed, “It’s about your precious, Skye,” she says as Angel strides toward the door, this causes him to slow but none of us stop. “She’s not who you think she is!” she calls out.
Normally, we’d ignore this from Veronica, but given everything we learned today, Angel stops. “What about her?”
“Maybe we should go talk somewhere a bit more… private,” she says sidling up to Angel.
“Just spit it out before I change my mind,” he snaps.
Her eyes gleam with triumph as she says, “She’s Bill Anderson’s stepdaughter.”
For a moment, we’re all stunned into silence. None of us expected that.
“You’re lying,” I blurt out, unable to comprehend how Skye could have hidden that from us after everything we’ve been through.
Veronica shoots me a withering look before addressing Angel again, “I’m not. It’s true, you can look it up yourselves.”
“How did you find this out?” Buzz asks.
He’s the one in charge of looking into Skye, so he will take the fall for missing this if it’s true. But I know he didn’t do as thorough of a job as normal, he fell for Skye’s charms, her story, same as the rest of us. I feel sick with betrayal and anger.
“I have my ways…” Veronica says coquettishly. Seeing our unimpressed faces, she elaborates, “Those dudes from the first night she started working here, the ones you kicked out,” she says looking at me before continuing, “I bumped into them the other night and they told me. I confronted her about it yesterday, told her to come clean or I would tell you. Seems she’s a coward as well as a liar,” she says smugly.
Gunner shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m going inside to speak with Skye, I’m not going to trust the word of a cracked-out whore,” he says, marching inside.
“She’s the whore you shouldn’t have trusted!” Veronica calls out but we all ignore her, following Gunner, with Veronica chasing behind.
When we walk into the bar, Skye looks up and smiles at us from the table she’s bussing, but when she sees our expressions and Veronica standing triumphantly beside Angel her face drops. The look of complete sadness and defeat tells me everything I need to know. She lied to us.
I didn’t think I had a heart. But I could swear, in that moment, I feel it break.