Chapter 11
Bull
“Frost, wrap that shit up and get back here.” I call him as I’m walking to the funeral home.
“Thunder and the prospects should be there in the next couple of hours. I’m just crossing some Ts,” he replies. “Halo told me I’ve missed a lot in the past two days. About Tucker and now you’re claiming his granddaughter.”
“Yeah, what do you know about her uncles?”
“Two of them are steady, two are shady. Their kids are mostly fuck-ups,” he replies, obviously expecting the question. “We’ll talk when I’m back.”
“Yeah, I’m especially interested in knowing why Jason Tucker’s at the sheriff’s office screaming that Margo’s grandmother murdered his mother and now he thinks she’s killed her grandfather.”
“If he yells too loud, you tell Clark to check out Justin’s markers in Deadwood,” Frost suggests. “His dad dying leaves him without anyone bailing him out when he needs it.”
“Solid. Safe travels,” I grunt in reply.
Frost is as true a brother as anyone in the Kings could ask for. Except he was my father’s man and was pissed when the votes came in and I skipped the line, becoming President instead of him.
He walks a fine line, even though four years have passed. He knows everything about the locals, only giving up information when it suits him.
Bronco and Thunder have become more and more reserved around him, while I choose to believe he’ll put his ego aside and have my back when I need him. Only time will tell if I’m being a fool about that.
A long-standing rule that my dad had was to never walk in the front door of the funeral home wearing a cut.
His people were in the burial business long before there were motorcycles and no matter that everyone in this chunk of South Dakota knows Dad and I are part of the Kings of Anarchy, they’re willing to overlook it. As long as we dress the part.
Cutting through the parking lot, I circle the building and enter through the back entrance.
Directly to my right is the room where I first encountered Margo, but that’s not my destination today.
Tyler should be cremated, with his remains in the elaborate urn his wife chose, waiting to be commented on by all their neighbors tomorrow morning.
“Ms. Edith,” I greet the woman who has been working here since my grandfather’s time. “Are we all set?”
I’m still shrugging on one of the suit coats that I keep in the office when I join her in the parlor.
“Oh, dear. Stryker, you startled me,” she says, slowly crossing the room and reaching for my arm. “Yes, Mrs. Tyler will be here shortly to check on things. Good gracious, if she isn’t treating this like a wedding ceremony.”
“I appreciate you preparing everything,” I tell her. “Have you heard about George Tucker?”
“Of course! It’s just awful. The whole down is talking. And murdered?” she responds, before giving me a little grin. “Did I hear you were on a date with his granddaughter? Or was that just the gossip mill in overdrive?”
“Well, since I trust you not to contribute to the wagging tongues,” I say as gently as possible. “I was, and honestly, I was hoping to offer her a job here. Just to assist you.”
“Oh! I’ll happily train her if it means she’ll stop running over everyone’s mailboxes,” Edith exclaims, clapping her hands together.
Coming from Edith, the comment bothers me, but I keep my mouth shut; especially considering how wound up I was about my mailbox.
Christ, the woman must have a magic pussy, the way I’ve gone from wanting to strangle her to keeping her in just a few short days.
After meeting with the widow, I lock up behind her and head back over to the sheriff’s office.
Where all hell is breaking loose.
Approaching the doors, I can see multiple people inside yelling at the deputy who was first on scene last night.
Wanting to circumvent that nonsense, I walk around the building, calling Clark as I search for a side door.
“What?” His loud tone is definitely necessary due to the shouts in the background.
“I’m not walking in the front door, get someone to let me in, uh, okay the stickers on the door read NW Five.”
He hangs up without another word, but within a few minutes Howie pops the door open.
“You won’t believe it,” he says without preamble. “I think all the Tuckers are here and they all want to talk to the lawyer. No one can figure out how they know he’s here, but the lawyer keeps saying he won’t read the will until the case is resolved.”
I stop so quickly that Howie backs into me. “Is Terran the lawyer?”
“Yes, sir. He’s just down the hall, the sheriff was talking to him, but we needed Clark to try to break up all the Tuckers.”
Without another word, I head toward the room that Howie indicated, leaving him sputtering behind me.
“Terran,” I briskly greet the man I’ve known for many years. “I’m not supposed to be here, and if asked, I’ll say you told me nothing, but why in the everlasting fuck are there a dozen Tuckers screaming in the lobby?”
The man’s no fool and he owes me more than he’d ever want anyone to know; I almost laugh at his countenance right before he tells me what I want to know.
“George has been bailing his older sons out and paying for his grandchildren’s tuitions for years. Eli never bothered him for a dime, so George changed his will a couple of years back. He’s left practically everything to Eli and Margo.”
“George was very low-key, what else am I missing?" I ask him, now curious about the man with a house not bigger than fifteen hundred square feet and a twenty-year-old Bronco.
“He has rental properties here, in Lead, Spearfish, and Deadwood. Plus, his last three wives had generous life insurance payouts.”
Well, fuck. Is the first thing that pops into my head.
The second is that if that was why he was murdered, then Margo has a target on her back also.
“Wait, a minute. What was that?” The lawyer had continued talking, but I had zoned him out.
“He inherited the rental properties when his second wife died. She didn’t have a will so everything went to him.” Terran looks up at me with a hopeful expression. “Does this make us even for…”
“Not by a long shot,” I tell him, heading back into the hallway to join Margo.
As I turn the next corner, Clark is walking toward me. “What happened to you?”
“Sorry, wrong turn. Is Margo still in your office?”