5. Player #2
“Bag it and get it to the lab,” Edwards replies with a jerk of his chin.
Once the officer moves off with the weapon, Edwards and my father look at each other.
“You think this was just about money?” Gage asks in a low murmur.
“It doesn’t make sense to me. If you were coming here to rob a man, wouldn’t you bring a gun?” Ronnie asks.
“A sledgehammer? That’s some violent shit. This seems more like an act of rage,” Gage mutters.
“Maybe he wouldn’t give up his wallet fast enough,” the sheriff suggests.
“I’m not buying it,” my father replies.
“Well, you better take off. I’ve got to find a killer.”
“Keep me posted. Hell, I can’t believe he’s gone. This must affect you, too. We’ve all been friends since fourth grade.”
“I know you and I are on different sides of things, but Jimmy was always our link. Who the hell would want him dead?” Edwards murmurs low, and it’s more like two buddies talking.
“Yeah. He was. Ronnie, I never got a chance to thank you, but it meant a lot to me when you came to my wife’s funeral.”
“Of course. That day we were just two husbands and fathers.”
“Two friends,” my father corrects, then extends his hand.
“Friends,” Edward repeats, taking it.
My father and I return to our bikes out at the curb.
“You okay?” I ask him.
“There aren’t many people left in my life from my growing-up years. My parents are gone. Your mother. Now Jimmy. He was a good guy. He didn’t deserve this. He saved my ass more than once.”
I nod, not sure what to say.
“Come on. Let’s go get a drink,” he says.
“Sure. Where to? The casino?”
“On second thought, I want to make a stop first. Let’s go to the Blue Gill. That was Jimmy’s favorite place. He was a regular. Maybe someone there knows something.”
Walking inside, it’s a classic diner setup, and we take a booth by the window. My father faces the door, which is an old habit with him.
It’s not long before a waitress appears. She’s older with short purple hair and too much makeup. Her name tag reads, Violet. She cocks her head at my father.
“Last time I saw you in here was with Jimmy Jacks. He’s usually here by now. Never misses lunch.” She checks the pink neon clock on the wall. “He’s an hour late today. Is he joining you?”
My father flips over the thick diner cup in its matching saucer, indicating he wants some of the coffee from the carafe she carries.
I do the same, and she fills us both up, her eyes shifting to me with a smile. “This must be your son. Am I right?”
“Yep,” Gage replies.
“Looks just like you,” she adds. “What can I get you?”
My father clears his throat. “You mentioned Jimmy…”
“Yeah. Is he joining you?”
My father shakes his head. “I’m afraid not, Violet.”
The smile fades from her face, replaced by a crease on her forehead.
“You a friend of his?” I ask.
Her gaze shifts to me. “We’re friendly. The girls and I have gone bowling with him a time or two. Why?”
Gage drags a hand down his face. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough. He was murdered sometime during the early morning hours.”
She pales and lowers onto the edge of the red leather seat next to me. “Murdered? I can’t believe it. Not Jimmy. He was such a nice man. He always made me laugh.”
“His son found him this morning,” Gage informs her, studying her reaction. “You know of anybody who might have had a problem with him?”
“No. I mean, none who would want to kill him. He didn’t have any partners, did he? And his ex-wife is dead from what I hear.”
Gage sips his coffee. “He ever talk to you about his day?”
“Sure. Most regulars do.”
“He ever complain about any deals that went south? Any issues he had with anyone?”
“No.”
“Did he have any girlfriends I don’t know about? Did he ever come in here with anyone? Someone married, perhaps?”
Her eyes get big. “Do you think it was a jealous husband?”
“Possibly.”
“Well, there was this one time about a month ago that he was having lunch with an attractive blonde woman. I overheard them arguing. I didn’t catch all of it, but I think they were seeing each other, and I think she was married.”
“You catch her name?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her at Elegance Salon. I think she manages the place.”
My father’s gaze connects with mine, and I pull out my phone. I search the website and find a staff photo. “She in this picture?”
Violet leans closer and pulls her glasses from the top of her head, then points. “That one. That’s her.”
My father nods. “Thanks. It could have nothing to do with her, so don’t spread that around.”
“Of course.” She cocks her head. “You don’t think the son did it, do you?”
“Nope,” I say, answering that one. No use starting the gossip mill about the kid when I’m pretty sure he’s innocent.
Her eyes shift between us. “I hope they find out who did it. I won’t feel safe until they do.” She stands and takes out her pad. “So, what’ll you have?”
After she takes our order and walks away, I lean across the table. “You want to pay this chick a visit?”
My father drags a hand down his face, his eyes scanning the restaurant. “Let me think about it. Maybe I’ll just pass the info on to Edwards.”
I lift my coffee to my mouth. “Good, because I’m not Sherlock Holmes.”
Dad grins. “Not even close.”
“You heard from Sissy yet? Beck said you were trying to get a hold of her.”
He checks his phone. “I was. It pisses me off when she doesn’t respond.”
“She’s a teenager.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“And yet… you never reprimand her.”
“I don’t need you to tell me how to parent. Someday you’ll see how hard it is.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
He huffs a laugh. “You’ll knock some chick up eventually, whether or not you mean to, and she’ll come calling with a baby on her hip.”
“Bullshit. Not when I wrap my junk.”
“TMI, son.”
“Beck and Pony are upset about you selling the house. You caught that, right?”
He sighs heavily. “I did, but it was time. That place had a lot of good memories, but for me it had become a mausoleum.”
“I understand. It’s why I moved out of the place I shared with Debbie. Beck and Pony, not so much. To them its like losing mom all over again.”
“I know. I thought about telling them before I did it, but they would have tried to talk me out of it, and I didn’t want to be talked out of it.” His eyes meet mine. “I’ve mourned her death for four years. It’s time I start living again.”
“So, the beach, huh?”