Chapter 7 #2
* * *
It was nearing noon by the time the brothers got to the Tumbleweed Bar.
Seeing the parking lot empty at this time of day was weird, but seeing the piece of plywood nailed over the front door where the window used to be made them sick.
As usual, they drove around to the back to park, then grabbed their bags as they got out.
“I’ve got my key,” Asher said, unlocked the back door, and entered the house and into the kitchen with his brothers behind him.
Clearly, the forensic team had been through here, but nothing had been broken, and things were mostly still in place. He quickly turned up the thermostat to take off the chill.
“You two take the extra bedrooms. We’re all too big to sleep together anymore. I’ll sleep in Dad’s bed for the duration,” Ash said, and dumped his stuff in Jacob’s room, while his brothers went further down the hall to leave their bags, then met up in the living room.
“You ready to do this?” he asked, and when they nodded, Ash opened the door leading into the hall between the residence and the bar.
The first thing they saw was the plywood over the missing window in the door, but as they moved into the bar, their eyes immediately went to the bloodstained floor behind the bar.
“Ah, God,” Gunner muttered. “Hell of a thing for Dad to walk in on when he re-opens.”
“I can get some stuff to take that up and replace the glass,” Dylan said.
Asher walked all the way to the front door, taking care not to crush any more glass shards into the floor, and then turned around and looked back at the crime scene.
“They came in fast. If Dad made it into the house, then by the time he heard the glass break and came running back for the gun, they were already inside and set up to take him down,” Ash said.
“But there’s something off. If he was already in the hall, they would have seen his silhouette from the glow of the nightlights.
Right? He was a big target in their sights.
Why wait to shoot him until he was back in the bar? ”
Gunner’s eyes narrowed. “Good eye, Ash. Maybe they never planned on encountering him? Everyone knows he lives in the attached house.”
Asher frowned. “Then why make all that noise coming in?”
“Stupid thieves?” Dylan offered. “We get break-ins at job sites all the time. They see the security cameras. They see the posted signs if there are guard dogs on the premises at night, and still try it anyway.”
Asher turned around, opened the front door, then looked at Dylan, who was still standing at the bar.
“From where you’re standing, what do you see?” he asked.
“The parking lot,” Dylan said.
“The truck that made a U-turn!” Gunner said. “That’s what spooked them! They were already inside. They’d already shot Dad for whatever reason, but they didn’t take anything, because the headlights from any car making a U-turn would have swept through the bar like a searchlight.”
Asher nodded. “It’s a theory, but it’s the only one that makes sense with the little we know. If we could only find out who was driving that truck, maybe they saw something and didn’t realize what they saw meant anything.”
“But how do we do that?” Gunner muttered. “Go door to door?”
Dylan frowned. “No. Go to the Rose. Talk to Pearl. She’s the witness. Ask her what the black truck looked like, too? What? Don’t look at me like that.”
Ash grinned. “We weren’t looking at you like anything… Just proud of you for seeing the obvious when we were still looking at maybes.”
Dylan shrugged. “Happy to be of assistance. And if it’s okay with you two, while you are sleuthing about, I’m gonna make a quick run to Lowe’s Hardware downtown and see if they can cut me a piece of glass for the front door.
It’s too damn cold for the patch job they’ve done.
I just need to get a tape measure. I know where Dad keeps the tools. ”
Gunner tossed him the keys. “You’re the boss man when it comes to all that,” then pulled out a couple of twenties and handed it to Dylan.
Asher handed him a couple more.
“Thanks,” Dylan said. “I shouldn’t be long. And didn’t Sheriff Reddick tell us the forensic team was leaving Dad’s keys with Pearl when they left?”
“Yes, he did,” Asher said. “How about we meet there for lunch? You text us when you’re at the Rose and we’ll meet you there. I know where Dad keeps the extra set of keys to the truck. You do your thing. We’ll be in the house.”
Dylan nodded and went to get a tape measure. As soon as he had the measurements needed to replace the window glass, he locked the door and headed uptown.
“I need to send Dad’s statement to the sheriff’s office,” Ash said.
“I’ll make some coffee,” Gunner offered, and they quickly retreated to the warmth and comfort of the family home.
Ash unpacked and hung up his clothes, then got his laptop and went into the living room to work where it was warm.
* * *
The first thing Everett Brandt did when he woke up was to check his account.
He grunted in satisfaction when he saw the disability deposit had come through in his Direct Expense account, which meant his allotment card was loaded with money again.
He stomped his feet into his boots and went to the bathroom.
It was too cold to shower, and he didn’t have any clean clothes because they’d didn’t have laundry soap, so what did it matter?
He could tell by the scent of fresh brewing coffee that Freddie was up. Likely downing all the toast, but whatever. Today was for groceries and washing clothes, and hoping old man Kingston quit breathing.
Freddie looked up and smiled as Everett entered the kitchen.
“I saved you toast!” he said.
Surprised, Everett smiled. “Thanks, Freddie. We’re going grocery shopping this morning.”
“Can we get Twinkies?” Freddie asked.
“We can get Twinkies,” Everett said, grabbed a piece of cold toast, poured himself a cup of coffee, then dunked the toast in the bitter brew and chomped.
* * *
Sheriff Matt Reddick was in a mood. Forensics just informed him that so far, they had pulled DNA from over twenty different people off of Jacob Kingston’s clothes, and they still weren’t finished—the result of having a victim be the owner, wait staff, bartender, and janitor of a very busy bar who’d been rolled all over said floor by his assailants before they shot him.
It wasn’t going to point the finger of guilt at anyone, due to the constant contact of customers coming and going.
And from a period longer than just that one day.
Trying to identify the DNA on his clothes from the floors alone was about to cause a walk-out in forensics.
It was turning into a no-go as far as good clues went.
And then Reddick received the email from Asher Kingston, and the first thing that stood out to him was the request to not publicize the fact that Jacob had awakened and told them what he knew.
He understood why, and hated that this was happening.
But knowing what Jacob had seen…what he remembered…
was more than they’d had five minutes ago.
So…now Reddick knew that two men had approached Jacob a week before the shooting to ask if the bar was for sale.
Two men had been involved in the shooting.
One of the attackers told him he should have sold the bar, and then they shot him.
What didn’t make sense was why nothing was taken, and why they ran after they’d done the deed.
That sounded more like a revenge shooting than a botched robbery.
But why? And if it did have anything to do with the old, armored car robbery, why now?
He sent a reply saying Message Received.
A few minutes later, the sheriff’s office received a 911 call from a teenager, saying his dad was beating his mother for gambling away their rent money.
At that point, the Kingston shooting was put on the back burner as the sheriff and two deputies headed to a small cattle ranch on the outskirts of Silverton to save a man from himself, and a woman from dying for her sins.
* * *
Dylan had just loaded up a piece of tempered glass for the door into the back of the SUV.
The glass had been cut to size and safely taped between two pieces of cardboard.
He also had putty, some caulking points, and a new putty knife in the bag he was carrying, and some stain remover for hardwood floors.
As he was getting into the car, he saw Nora walking out of the ER with a bandage on her hand. She looked like she’d been crying, and he immediately sent Asher a text.
Headed to the Yellow Rose. Just saw Nora coming out of the ER with a bandage on her hand. Go get her and bring her to eat lunch with us. She walks like she’s carrying the weight of the world, and she’s been crying. But drop Gunner off first. No woman wants an audience when she’s crying.
* * *
When Ash’s phone signaled a text, he shut down his laptop to read it, guessing it was probably Dylan. And then he opened it, read it, and bolted to his feet.
“Gunner! Time to go.” He grabbed his coat and the keys to Jacob’s truck and headed for the back door with Gunner behind him.
“What’s the hurry?” Gunner asked as he slid into the passenger seat.
“I’m dropping you off at the Rose, then going to check on Nora. Dylan saw her coming out of Urgent Care with a bandage on her hand.”
“Hope it’s not something bad,” Gunner said.
“At this point, a hangnail would probably be her last straw,” Asher said as he drove out to the highway and gunned it up to the Rose. He let Gunner out and then drove to Nora’s house, pulled up behind her car, went up the porch steps two at a time, and knocked.
A few seconds later, he heard footsteps coming to the door, and then it swung inward. There was a mop in her hand, and the shirt she was wearing was stained with blood, he assumed from the bandaged hand she was holding up between her breasts. Tears were rolling and her chin was trembling.