Page 49 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
I read it twice before the words sank in.My brain tripped up when I read the phrase, “loving father.”He was anything but.Dad was a piece of shit.Adeadpiece of shit.
“This is a homicide report.”John stared at the stack of papers accompanying the clippings.He handed me the top page and pointed to a couple of salient facts.“He was shot in a parking lot.”
The address matched his work.“That’s outside my father’s law office.The victim was my father.”I showed John the obituary.
“I figured as much.”He scanned a few more pages.“This shouldn’t be anywhere outside the investigator’s office.I’ll take these in and make sure they get back to where they need to be.”He shuffled the bags into order and placed the note underneath the stack.
“Stop trying to hide that from me.”I pulled it out and read the sloppy printing.Shock never could write worth a damn.
I read his words out loud.“‘Dear Kate, I want you to know what a piece of shit your father was.’—No, really?”I scoffed at my editorial comment and read on.“‘He got me off a charge two weeks ago, but thanks to him and his fucking habit, he cost me a million-five.But I’ll forgive him for that because he left me two great things.First, you.My fucking wife.Second?An address inMaine.That motherfucker knew where you were and didn’t tell me.I’m glad he’s dead.You’re next.’”
My dad handed me to Shock gift-wrapped.Again.
Chapter 15
Skilletsville, July 19th(Present)—Jackson
Working hard to make money is a fucking scam.There’s a certain tipping point where all that hard work can’t get you any more scratch than the day before.That’s when you look at that bank account and wonder where the fuck it’s all going.Worse?You look at the suits on the banker holding your cash and realize,there.That’s where it’s going.
Hickey and Skinner droned on about the club’s investments.Time was, under men like Kush or Pinner, the highest money maker outside of drug and gun running was this fucking junkyard.Now, it barely kept the doors open.
When did ten grand become a small amount?I pondered that while the geek squad of bikers got hard over spreadsheets.I didn’t care much for the particular details, just the paycheck at the end of the month.And this month, it was down.Sprout’s construction business was spending cash building houses that weren’t selling, the waterfront project was on hold because of one bullshit thing or another, and the cam girl business was flatlined because Grace couldn’t keep girls happy because she was unhappy.And when your boss is a bitch, well…I didn’t blame them for finding a new boss.
A tentative knock at the door saved my ass from murder.“Knock like you fucking mean it, or don’t fucking bother.”I yelled, quieting both my treasurer, Hickey, and Skinner, who was damn good at computers.
A prospect shoved his face in.This one was supposed to be working at the desk at the junkyard.Which at least was making money.That wasifsomeone was there to answer the goddamned phone.
“What!?”
“One of your hookups is calling for you again.”
My heart stumbled before picking up pace.“They’re always calling.”
He turned to go, but I stood up and snapped my fingers.“Give me the goddamned phone.Hopefully she’s got good phone sex.I’ll send her Grace’s way.”I shot the last at Hickey, who didn’t find it amusing.
“Yo.Jackson here.”
“Tell me where you were on Christmas Day, 1984.”
I stared at the phone.This wasn’t some bitch from the strip club, or one of the hangers, or even one of the hookers, not mine anyway… “Give me a minute, I gotta kick some assholes out before I get revved up on your sexy voice.”To the geek twins, I said, “Scram.We’ll finish later.”
Once the commotion of their collecting papers and laptops ended, I turned back to the call.“I was at your trailer that Christmas because Dad was on a job somewhere west and Mom was in a snit.Why are you calling, Crystal?”
“First, they’re gone.”
They.Stick a knife in my heart, will ya?“Where?”
“I don’t know.And I’m sure that’s on purpose.”
She saidfirst.“And?”
“And John’s in the hospital.Theyshot him.Why?”Her voice was laced with pain.
I should ask a ton of questions.I should be getting my ass on my bike and riding somewhere to make solutions happen.But this was what I told Kate to do.Run and don’t stop.Don’t call, don’t contact me, and don’t look back.“When was this?”
She sighed.“It started over a month ago according to John.Kate had a package.It was delivered to his doorstep on accident.It hadshit in there about her father’s death and a threat from that asshole.Then it escalated.”
“Escalated, how?”
