Page 50 of Rebel

When Rosie turned to leave, I took a sip of the drink she’d crafted for me. It curled my toes. When she said it was strong, she wasn’t kidding—she definitely made it extra strong and extra delicious. Part of me felt all kinds of wrong drinking this early in the day, but then I rationalized it with myself—it wasn’t every day you had to deal with a second break-in within a few weeks. Zoe and Alison both got tipsy fast, and their conversations were hilarious. I just sipped my drink and lost myself in the easy chat. I needed this opportunity to relax.

Chapter 18

Rebel

It took no time at all to track down Sherman Stayer, the irresponsible asshole who did all those piss-poor jobs that I had to go in and fix. We’d decided that we’d only ask him about the first break-in, at least for starters. Depending on his answers I might have to beat more info out of him. We found him at home, which was a rundown shack on the wrong side of the tracks. He was sitting on his front porch rolling a cigarette. At first, I thought it was marijuana but when we got closer, I could smell the scent of strong tobacco.

When he saw me get off my bike and start walking towards him, he frowned. Although I remembered his face from the day Lacey fired him, he looked a bit rougher. Clearly being fired had not sat well with him. Sherman looked grubby, had a scruffy beard, and was wearing denim overalls with no shirt. And he was barefoot to boot.

Before I could properly greet him, he demanded, “What the hell do you want? You already took my job. Do you want to take my house too?”

“Stop being an asshole. We’ve come to talk to you about the break in at Livingstone Electrical.”

His expression turned confused, but he tried to cover by bringing the cigarette he just rolled to his mouth. His chin trembled slightly as he stuck out his tongue and slid it down the edge of the paper to get it to stick together. His hands were shaking more than I would have expected from a man his age.

When he finished, he stuck the end in his mouth and lit it. After inhaling a couple of times, he asked, “Is Lacey okay? I know things fell apart there towards the end, but I never had any hard feelings towards her or wanted anything bad to happen to her.”

“Lacey is fine,” I told him. “The break in was during the night. She was fast asleep at home when it happened.”

He nodded. “I’m glad she’s okay.” He flicked his ashes off the end of the porch and took another drag from his cigarette.

I gave him a few seconds to suck down some nicotine before asking, “Where were you on the twenty-second of last month?”

He took another puff and stared into my eyes. “What the hell kind of question is that. I can’t even remember what I had for lunch yesterday, much less what I was doing weeks ago.”

“Did you break into Livingstone Electrical, Sherman?” I asked the question even though I was getting the distinct feeling this man was seriously out of the loop when it came to the goings-on around town.

“Do I look stupid to you?” Without giving me a chance to reply, he added, “I’m not about to wind up in jail over some office trinkets.”

“Someone tried to get into the safe,” I shot back.

“Whoop-de-do,” he responded flippantly. “They probably keep their business license, and tax documents, along with a bunch of shit that ain’t of interest to anybody but them.”

“Maybe you thought there was money in there?” I suggested.

He gave me a withering look. “I worked there for years and never saw them accept cash from a client. Everything with Livingstone was electronic. Livingstone always kept a hundred bucks in his desk drawer for emergencies, but everything was either checks, bank transfers, or card payments.”

“Weren’t you angry that you got fired? Revenge is a powerful motivator to get even.”

“Yeah, I was angry. But people get fired every day. Getting fired doesn’t automatically make me a criminal. I don’t have it in me to hold onto grudges. It’s too fucking exhausting.”

Nothing about this man made me think he had something to do with the break ins—either at the office or last night. Finally, I asked, “Do you know of anyone who might have a motive for breaking into the office?”

He hesitated for a moment before responding. “Well there’s Mark. He lost a management job that paid well.”

“So, you think he broke in?”

“Now, did I say that?” he asked sourly. Not waiting for me to answer, he continued, “No, I didn’t say anything of the sort. Don’t try to put words in my mouth. You asked who might have a motive. Mark might have a motive but that doesn’t mean he did anything illegal.” After pausing to rub his cigarette out on the cracked concrete porch floor, he stated, “Mark has always been all talk. He thinks too much of himself to do stupid shit that might land him in jail. His style is more bitching to anyone who’ll listen at the bar.”

I shot Storm and Celt a dark look. Before I could speak, Sherman did. “Are you guys spoiling for a fight? If you are, I’ll damn sure give you one.”

This wily fucker was out of his damn mind to provoke us. I snapped my head around to glare at him. “I should beat your ass for all those shoddy jobs you did. You hurt the company and caused no end of trouble for Lacey and her parents at a point in their lives when they really needed a stable income to care for her father.”

“Yeah, I feel bad about that, but I already got my punishment,” he said as he looked off into the distance. “My punishment was losing the only good job I ever had.”

A short silence spun out as I thought over his words. Finally, Storm muttered, “This isn’t getting us any closer to finding the person responsible for these break-ins.”

“Break-ins?” Sherman repeated.

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