The Milk Wagon Page 15

  “Good morning, sunshine.” He started in on her neck, but she stopped him.

  “Your turn.” She handed him his toothbrush and he smiled.

  “Real cool, Kat.”

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she said, then threw the shirt off and crawled under the covers. The cool sheets felt wonderful, and she pulled them up to her chin. She listened to him as he freshened up and giggled when she heard him humming Marvin Gaye. She rolled over to watch him and wondered where he had been all her life.

  He was just toweling off his face when his radio popped. The sudden burst of static made Kathryn jump.

  “Dispatch to 304, Over.” 304 was Rick’s badge number.

  He looked at her and winked. “Don’t go anywhere. This will only take a second.” He picked up the radio. “This is 304, over.”

  “Chief, can you call Johnny at the station? Looks like we have a 187 that you may want to check out.”

  Kathryn sat up. A 187 was a homicide.

  “Will do.”

  Kathryn knew her chance at a morning interlude was over when Rick picked up his interview pad along with a fresh t-shirt and underwear and started downstairs. He looked over at her as he passed the bed and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  “Go,” she said, and lay back down on the pillow. She tried to listen, but the sun coming through the window distracted her, so she slipped on some warm-up pants and one of Rick’s flannel shirts and sat out on the balcony to watch the morning come to life. Not a whole lot of people were out, other than those coming in to work early. She couldn’t quite see Triplett-Day from her vantage point, but she saw cars parked around it, so she knew they had a fresh pot of coffee on and sausage biscuits baking, if not already out. She would have been content to sit out on the ledge all morning, but she didn’t have any coffee herself, so she headed back inside to brew some. When she opened the door, Rick was standing there. His pants were on, and he was buttoning up his shirt. The look on his face told her he meant business.

  “Was it a homicide?”

  “Looks that way. Female. Strangled, possible sexual assault.”

  “Suspects?”

  “Kathryn –”

  “Any I.D. on her?”

  “Yes. They were able to identify her. They found her at her house.”

  “Do we know her?”

  “You do.”

  Kathryn felt that sinking feeling in her gut. No way. “Don’t tell me it was Charlotte.”

  “Yeah.It was Charlotte.” He held his pad up and read it aloud. “Charlotte G-u-t-h-e-r-z. How do you say that?” She recited the correct pronunciation and plopped down on the bed. Charlotte had come up in previous discussions with Rick, but Kathryn had never mentioned her last name.

  “According to Johnny, she’s been dead probably three days.”

  Kathryn did the math in her head and then started putting her clothes on. That put the murder shortly after her last interview. She looked at her bag as she slid her watch on her wrist.

  Marty’s sketches would have to wait.

  Chapter 38

  Somehow Mark had convinced the homecoming committee to let his band play one set during the dance. Well, maybe not a complete set. They agreed to let them play four songs while the DJ took a break after the first hour. The dance was officially scheduled to run from eight until midnight, but the reality was, no one usually showed up until around nine-thirty anyway, so the powers that be figured no harm done in case the band crashed and burned.

  But this was no ordinary homecoming, and our class was no ordinary class, so when Wombat Revolution cranked up the amps at nine o’clock sharp, they had seventy or so of their closest friends crowded around the stage. Mark was no Michael Hutchence, but I’ll give him credit. For their first outing, they weren’t too bad. Mark played drums and sang backup; Trey was the front man on keyboards; Travis played guitar, and a kid from tenth grade named Jaybird was on bass. I didn’t know him, but he could work that axe like a madman.

  The girls screamed and hollered like they had never seen live music before. Had it been a real concert, I would have hoped to see a bra or two tossed on the stage, but since we were at a Catholic school, the only lacy thing that caught air was a cheap wrist corsage that someone flung at Jaybird slingshot-style. It cleared him and landed right in front of the hole in Mark’s bass drum.

  In true Australian fashion they opened with “Don’t Change,” then brought it back stateside with “Day by Day.” They then went back overseas – this time to Europe – for “Your Love,” and then brought the house down when they went old school and played, of all things, “Good Lovin’.” I didn’t see that coming, but I was glad they did it because Emily grabbed me and proceeded to shake the paint off the walls.

  By the time the band quit, the rest of the crowd had rolled in, and once the DJ got set up, we danced the night away – well most of it, anyway. For all of his goofy ways, Nate was actually pretty light on his feet and wasn’t scared to hang it all out on the floor. Hop was wooden, but not in a cool I’m-doing-the-robot way. He looked more like someone’s dad chaperoning a dance at a math convention. Mark was as smooth as you would expect from a budding musician, and I fell somewhere in the middle, although I doubted anyone was watching me, except when Emily happened to be my dance partner – which seemed to happen more and more as the night moved on. It surprised me as much as anyone else, and I was not disappointed with this new development. Nate didn’t appear to mind, and Chrissy pretty much disappeared anyway once we got inside, so who was I to argue?

  The second surprise of the night was when Lance showed up on the arm of Elizabeth Hyde, a senior. We weren’t aware that they even knew each other, but Lance told us Fish Feeders opened a lot of doors, among other things, for him. He was the only one from West Harrison to make the cut. To say his dance style was unorthodox would be an understatement, but he sure looked like he was having fun. We all were.

  It helped that we made frequent trips out to the parking lot where we stealthed over to the Milk Wagon for some libations. All cars were subject to inspection by the Gestapo, but we weren’t too worried because the Trapper kept everything hidden away and out of sight. We had already been out there twice, but the clock had struck eleven, which was our last predetermined time to meet. Besides, we had heard the parking lot patrols slacked off the closer it got to midnight. We walked out separately so as not to arouse any suspicion, and by the time I got there, the old fireside crew was already passing around a bottle.

  “Frazier! Thought you’d bailed on us for this one.”

  “Nope. Wouldn’t miss it.” I checked out the booze. “Who brought Mad Dog? That’s disgusting.”

  “Need you ask?” Lance said and turned it up like it was Gatorade. “I keep at least two of these on hand in case of emergencies. Just wish I hadn’t run out of Orange Jubilee.” He handed it to me. “This purple stuff’s called Red Grape Wine.”

  It may have been purple, but that’s where any similarities ended. A whiff of it made my mouth water and my jaw tense up like I had just eaten a lemon. To call it “Red Grape Wine” was an insult to grapes and wine everywhere.

  “Nope. I’ll pass.” I reached into the Milk Wagon and grabbed the Captain Morgan and mixed it in with my Coke.

  “This is better.” I licked my lips and raised my cup. “Here’s to homecoming, boys.”

  “To chicks.” Mark said.

  “To, uh, nights like tonight,” Hop said, which was pretty good for him, although he didn’t have a glass to raise. He never drank when he was out with Kristin, which made him the default DD.

  “I’ll second all of those,” Nate said. “But I want to add something else.”

  We all moaned. Since his reawakening, there were few short conversations when Nate was involved, and we needed to get back inside.

  “Chill out, guys. I promise this won’t take long. What can
I say – I like giving toasts, okay?”

  “Hurry up already.”

  “Shut up, Hop. I just want to let y’all know how much I appreciate you being there for me these past months, you know, with my dad and everything.” His eye had faded from purple to yellowish brown, and the cut on his lip had almost healed. He reached up to pick at the scab, and two of his fingers were still taped together. “I didn’t have friends like this up in Hattiesburg, you know? Hell, I’ve never had friends like this – anywhere. I promise you I won’t forget it.”

  Mark mercifully intervened before Nate got too weird.

  “Well you’re stuck with us Nate, for better or worse. Here ’til the end. So, cheers to that.” Nate started to say something else, but by then, we had all raised our glasses and commenced to drinking, so he followed suit. I almost spit mine out watching Lance shiver as the Mad Dog made its way down the hatch.

  The clicking of heels on asphalt made us all freeze.

  “Bust-ed,” Hop mumbled. “Y’all hide the evidence. Hurry.” We all turned into Benny Hill as we scrambled to put away the bottles.

  A voice called out from around the corner.

  “Guys?”

  I looked up at Mark. He smiled and stopped the fire drill.

  “Hello?”

  False alarm. It was Emily. She stepped from around the corner still moving fast and doing the loud whisper voice.

  “Where have y’all been? People are starting to wonder.” She stopped and put her hands on her hip. “Oh, geez, Lance. Mad Dog? Really?”

  He straightened up and tried to set the bottle on the top of the Milk Wagon’s tire.

  “Just look at all of you. Half drunk, hair messed up, shirts untucked. Hop, where is your cummerbund?”

  “Inside. I spilled ketchup on it.”

  “Okay, well, we have to go before y’all get caught, but hold on. I have to get a picture of this motley crew first.”

  “Rock on,” Mark said, making the sign.

  “That’s not what I meant.” She fumbled in her purse and pulled out her Canon Sure Shot. “Okay, get together.” She looked over the top of the camera.

  “Good, now tighten up. Say ‘Eagles.’”

  True to form, she snapped it before we could get the words out, and the flash temporarily blinded us all.

  “Hey, can you get them to print a few extra copies?” I asked. “I want one.”

  “Me too,” Mark said.

  “I’ll get one for everyone. Now let’s go before you all get expelled.”

  “It’s about that time anyway,” Lance said. “I got Elizabeth all lathered up, and I don’t want to keep her waiting any longer.”

  “Waiting? I thought I saw her leaving with Travis,” Hop said.

  “Travis?” Mark said. “No, I saw her in the corner mugging on Ben.”

  “Shut up,” Lance said, tamping in a quick dip of Copenhagen, “both of you. She would never leave such a fine specimen as myself.”

  Hop mumbled something in return that I couldn’t hear, and Lance faked like he was going to punch him then put him in a headlock. I stayed back to put everything away and locked up the Milk Wagon. Nate hung back, too, and we watched them turn the corner, Emily shepherding the rest of the guys like a kindergarten teacher on a field trip.

  “Looks like you two finally found your groove.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry, man. I know we said we’d wait until after homecoming. I guess the booze got the best of me. Don’t worry, though. I’m done tonight. She’s all yours.”

  “Nah, dude, I think you should keep it up. What did Hop say? If she needs to roam, don’t let her stay home? Something like that?”

  “Uh, yeah, something like that.”

  “Well there you go.”

  “But Nate, Emily’s your date.”

  “Yeah, but she should have been yours. Wouldn’t be right for me to stay in the game at this point.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yep. Let me talk to her. It’s all good. Trust me on this.”

  And there it was. Another surprise, this time from Nate. I didn’t see how the night could get any better.

  But it did.

  Chapter 39

  When I got back inside, Emily wasn’t sitting at any of the tables, Wendy didn’t see her in the bathroom, and I didn’t see her out dancing, either. I knew I had only a few minutes left before the lights would come back on. I felt a terrible ache and wondered if she left by herself once Nate pulled the plug, but I shouldn’t have worried. The DJ announced one more song, and as soon as “Take My Breath Away” began, Emily walked in the door, taking a page right out of Sixteen Candles. We met up in the middle of the dance floor next to Mark and Wendy, and a few seconds later, Hop tugged Kristin out there.

  “I thought you had gone already. I was worried I missed you.”

  “No,” she said, grabbing both my hands. “Just had to see Nate out and thank him for taking me tonight.”

  “Did he tell you –”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was it weird?”

  “No, not at all. In fact,” she said, “I think he was relieved.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I said.

  She leaned into me. “Me too. Finally.”

  I had never considered shoulders as something that could be pretty, but hers sure were, and whatever magic she had conjured up to turn her perfume into an invisible flowery halo was spectacular. We squeezed together as close as we could get and moved with the music. I grabbed one of her hands and pulled it up to my chest then moved my other hand down by the small of her back, and we glided some more. I looked up and saw Mark and Wendy likewise swaying to the music. Hop was hunched over Kristin like Quasimodo, and she looked as if she had suddenly been stricken with scoliosis.

  As the third and final verse started, Emily looked up at me. This time, there were no hidden suggestions, there were no interruptions, and there were no more excuses. There was just the two of us, in the middle of the dance floor, at our high school homecoming, with our hearts cutting flips against our rib cages. She put one hand around my neck, leaned up, and pulled us together.

  Everything about it was perfect. It was slow; it was sensual; it was soft, and it was just the perfect amount of wet. It was almost as good as the first time I saw Star Wars.

  Almost.

  Chapter 40

  Soon after Kathryn unlocked the gallery doors, students started arriving. Some came alone; some came in groups of two or three, and as it got closer to start time, only about half of the students had shown up at all. Kathryn decided she would give it a few more minutes; it was a Saturday morning, after all. A little extra time could do everyone some good.

  When Marty Deen walked in at eleven, Emily Miller – one of the few punctual St. John students – made a beeline towards him and gave him a big hug.

  “Marty! So glad to see you!”

  “Hey, Emmy. I didn’t know you were going to be here. Did you come to hear me talk about my drawings?”

  “Not only that, but I get to help with your big show. It’s a thing I’m doing for school. It’s going to be awesome. I’m so proud of you.”

  He was beaming. “Have you seen my bike lately? I added red, white, and blue grips on the handles.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Just like Evel Knievel’s.”

  “Well, do you have time to show them to me? I bet they make you go faster.”

  “They do.”

  The remaining St. John students lumbered in slowly – each demonstrating varying degrees of recovery from the night before. Kathryn welcomed them and checked them off her list. When it looked like she had almost everyone, she asked that everyone take a seat. Marty had already pulled up a chair next to Kathryn, and he made sure everyone knew the other seat was for Emily.

  Right before
they started, the door chimed and in walked one more student. Kathryn did a double take when she saw him. He had been there at the prior meeting, but that’s not what jogged her memory. The fact that he was there when they conducted the raid is what jerked her brain. She ran her finger down the list of names and stopped at the only one she hadn’t checked.

  Nate Mayes.

  When she saw it, she rubbed her temple. Ford Mayes’s son. The kid who just stood there watching when the marshals took things out of his house. How could she have not picked up this connection the first time? People called his name out, and he pointed back at them, mumbling a response to some, high-fiving others. He gave Emily a hug and shook hands with Sammy. When he made a joke Kathryn couldn’t hear, Sammy buckled over laughing and said something back that made Emily snicker. Nate was working the room like a politician up for reelection.

  She was glad he was being social. She needed him to be chatty. She needed him to be strong. While the kids were still getting settled, she stepped outside and grabbed her backpack with the file folders in it. Other than Doc Mayes himself, Nate was her last hope to solve the case.

  He just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter 41

  Fast Eddie liked to go to Jack’s for lunch because the restaurant gave him the option to buy pizza by the slice. When he arrived just before noon, the large stainless-steel ovens were already full with pies at various stages of perfection, the oregano and spices bubbling up into the air through the cheese. He ordered the usual – all the way – which came loaded so deep with toppings he usually had to eat it with two hands to keep it from collapsing under its own weight. He added a side of garlic knots and a half-and-half iced tea. Sweet straight up was just too much for him. His total bill was under five dollars.