Page 21 of Road Rash

8

Old Man

It don’t take too long for the deputies to show once I’m able to call them. Since they’ve had to come calling so many times this year, the department’s been busy setting up a satellite trailer at the edge of town. I found that out from the sheriff when he came to investigate the dumpster fire. Once everything is up and running, there’ll be at least three deputies here at any given time.

Three of them show up, sliding in to break up the fight. My place is a mess. Tables upturned. Chairs on their sides or broken. This I’m used to. We get at least a couple of fights every year. I keep extra chairs and tables in a storage locker back behind the bar.

I get the broom from the back to start sweeping up broken glass. Most of our drinks are served in bottles. One of the girls gets out the mop and bucket swabbing down the floor behind me, once it’s safe enough. I don’t need anyone getting hurt on glass shards.

Since most of these men love a good fight and want to keep drinking, they help with the cleanup. It goes relatively fast for the size of the brawl. Though I’m forced to stop working when I’m approached by one of the deputies. He pulls me aside.

“I told you all how the brawl started,” I say and I’m not gonna lie. I’m puzzled as to why he’d keep me when he can see how busy I am.

“Not here about that. Jonesie here by any chance?” the deputy asks.

I shake my head. “Got her outta here. Didn’t wanna chance her gettin’ injured again.”

“Well, we found fingerprints at the farm. Both in the trailer and the house. Burk wasn’t around. He might’ve run off.”

“Shit. I gotta get Jonesie and find my dog.”

“Listen,” the deputy says. “We had a man step forward with information about the attack.” People aren’t even trying to hide the fact that they’re listening. “This person doesn’t want to be identified because of his club affiliation but they have no doubt that it wasn’t the Horde behind the attack on Jonesie, Brandi, Drake and the old timer.”

“Can you be sure?” I ask now completely gob smacked. I thought it had to be the Horde. Who else—well, maybe the Hangmen, but they hadn’t arrived in town when the attack occurred.

He pierces me with his deputy stare. “It’s kind of our job to investigate, not to just take people’s word at face value.”

“So you investigated this claim, then?”

“We have. Guy said he was in the shadows getting sucked off when the attack happened. The man who made the attack didn’t wear a patch. The old timer flashed a billfold full of cash when he was reaching inside it to retrieve a packet of something. We think he was selling. But instead of paying for whatever it was, the attacker pulled a gun and shot him. Drake and Brandi heard the shot and ran to help. That’s when he shot them, too. He grabbed the old timer’s billfold before he took off.”

“Did he see Jonesie get attacked?”

“No. He said he was freaking out by this point. But there’s two things we’re pretty sure of. One, it was a poser who attacked them. And two, he’s an addict. But don’t worry when these kinds of guys leave the house of cards they’ve carefully built to keep from getting caught for something like the rally, they don’t know how to handle themselves. We’ll catch him.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Not supposed to tell you this, but we’re trying to track down a man name Jim Cummins. His name keeps coming up.”

One of the posers who’d been helping clean but stopped to listen moves in close to our group. “Jim Cummins? You mean Slim?”

Slim? My entire body goes tight. “Jim Cummins is Slim?” I ask. I’m internally freaking out but I’m trying to hold it together.

“Crazy about him, right? Can’t believe he showed his face here.” Jonesie said the man who trashed the farm has darkish hair, not blonde or gray. With his balding head of salt and pepper hair and short, squatty body, beer gut and all, this guy don’t fit that. He’s not trying to shift the investigation away from him.

“What about Slim?”

“Word is he’s lost it all. Wife kicked his ass to the curb. Bid D, baby, and I don’t mean dick.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Guy’s a user,” he answers. “Guess he got injured last year. Got hooked on pain meds. Lost his practice and everything.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” I roar. “I just sent Jonesie off with him.”

“Aw, fuck… Go talk to Doc Beauchamp. They used to come here together.”

“Clyde,” I shout, “you got the bar.” Then I take off to find Doc Beauchamp with the deputy hot on my heels.

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