Page 70 of Road Queens
“No doubt,” Sidney sniggered.
“So, uh, Cass—are you saying you haven’t been taking your bike out?”
Cass buried her face in her hands and shook her head, hard. She straightened and replied, “Sonny, I had no idea it was here. I brought these guys here to prove that. Only to find your inconvenient kindness really screwed me over.”
Sonny blanched. “Aw, hell. It’s just, I knew you didn’t want to part with it. I mean—how could you? So I knew you’d be back. Didn’t you notice I never sent you any money or a receipt from selling your bike?”
All eyes went to Cass, who flushed. “Nope. Never did. Which was careless and stupid.”
That’s maybe a little harsh.Cass had closed the door on all of it when she took off. She would have spent five yearsnotthinking aboutwhat she’d lost, what she’d given away. So why would she be wondering about how much Sonny could get for the thing she didn’t want to think about ever again?
“Shop’s doing okay,” Sonny continued, “so I could afford to store it for you. I sure didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”
Cass was rubbing her scar and found a smile from somewhere. “Ah, thank you, Sonny. I appreciate that. But this is the first time I’ve been in your shop in five years. If someone’s taking my Commando out, it’s not me.” To the others: “I swear it’s not me.”
“We believe you,” Sidney said immediately, which was presumptuous and true.
“How many times?” Beane asked at once, holding Amanda at arm’s length to forestall more distractions. She had a clear shot at his balls, though.No, no. Not the time for a sucker punch.
“Uh, twice, I guess? Maybe three times? It was always back in the garage, and nothing was stolen or anything, so I just, y’know, assumed. I figured if it was someone up to no good, they woulda trashed my place or at least robbed me.”
“I don’t have the keys to my—to this bike,” Cass reminded him. “I gave those up too. And I never had the key to your shop. So who’s been coming here after hours to tool around town on my bike shooting randos?”
“Pretty sure this particular victim wasn’t random,” Sidney commented.
“Wait, who’s been shot?” Sonny asked, alarmed.
“Fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuck.” Sidney rubbed her eyes, hard, then answered: “Franklin Donahue.”
“Who the hell is—”
“The guy they pulled out of the river who used to go by ‘Jonny Frank.’”
Sonny digested this, blinking. “I thought he drowned.”
“Well, he didn’t; keep up, for fuck’s sake. Anyway, Team Beane over there has kept the news of his richly deserved demise out of the papers so far, but that’s gonna fall apart any second. Do you have security cameras?”
“Jeez, no, Sidney. Don’t really need ’em. I’ve never had any trouble, and you know how it is here.” Sonny waved his hand, gesturing to the bike and his spotless shop. Essentially,Everything’s righty-tighty, everything’s where it belongs, everyone knows their place, this is a small town where most of us like each other, nothing to see here. “We all know each other. So somebody shot Jonny and threw him in the river? You sure it wasn’t an accident?”
Sidney rolled her eyes. “How do you accidentally shoot someone in the back of the head and then hurl them into a river? If you’re not a cop, I mean. Yeah, that’s right, Beane, I said what I said.” To the others: “So now we’re looking for someone with a motive to kill that killer. Preferably someone whoisn’tone of us.”
“We’re not looking for anyone,” Amanda reminded her. “Remember your little speech in my Hole?”
“Gross.”
“About how amateurs shouldn’t try to catch killers?”
“Of course I remember, it was just a few hours ago.”
“Though if this was a book or movie, Sonny’d be our red herring,” Amanda mused aloud. “He’s just too nice. Last-person-we’d-suspect nice.”
“We’ve gotta do something,” Sidney continued. “This gets stranger and stranger by the minute. If we just sit around, there’s a chance at least one person in this room could end up bunking with Iris Rivers.”
“I think ‘stranger’ is in the eye of the beholder,” Amanda said. “It brings to mind something I read.”
“Ohhhhhh God, here we go.” From Sidney, who got a grin out of Cassandra for her theatrical moan.
Amanda ignored the interruption. “One of the reasons murders seem unsolvably weird is because investigators get misleading facts and run with them. Or they don’t get enough info and jump to conclusions. If you don’t have all the facts, even a smash-and-grab could seem mysterious.”
