3 A Brewski for the Old Man (30 page)

Four days later, nervous and dreading what was about to take place, I silently rode the elevator at the Tradewinds with Tully and Uncle Ziggy.

Clay waited at the open door to the apartment as we got off the elevator. Tully stepped forward and held out his hand to Clay. “Good to see you again, son.” “You two know each other?”

“Yup,” Tully said. “I used to hunt with his pa.” Nothing ever stays tidy in my life; nothing is ever what it seems. Humiliating to know how unaware and confused I really am. While I thought I was keeping the compartments of my life locked well away from each other, they’d been doing their own thing.

“Two old crackers like Bill Adams and me, course we knew each other. Sorry to hear of his death, son, he was a good man.”

“Thank you, sir, five years and I still miss him.” I turned to Uncle Ziggy. “And you and Clay are partners on your property?”

“Seems like,” he said. His skin was red and shiny but his smile was big and happy. “Clay and I are real close.”

I’d never really had any control over anything, not Ray John, not Sheila…and sure as hell not Anita. She told Styles she walked in and found the gun on the table and shot Ray John in a moment of madness over what he’d done to her little girl. She thought it was Ray John’s gun, and with luck it would stay that way.

But Anita denied trying to kill me, wasn’t telling anyone her plans for me. My first words to her when I looked up at her from the steering wheel had been, “It’s you.” She thought I was saying, “It was you who killed Ray John,” when what I had meant was “It’s you, Anita, and not the bride of Chucky.”

I think she decided right there to kill me. Go figure, a little misunderstanding that nearly got me killed when I hadn’t a clue she’d shot Ray John. But there was no way Styles could prove she meant to do anything but drug me.

“Are you going to keep us standing here all day while you catch flies with that open mouth?” Tully asked.

Clay reached out and took a small night bag from Tully’s hand. “Come this way. I’ll show you Ziggy’s room.”

Halfway across the living room, I called to Clay. “I don’t know why you’re smiling. Mrs. Whiting called this morning to say she could no longer work here.” “Good,” Clay said. “That woman drove me crazy.”

The End

I would like to thank Maureen Rowell for her generous support of Artspring with her purchase of a character naming.

I hope Peter says it’s brilliant.