Thirty-Five and a Half Conspiracies
Page 99
Skeeter lifted an eyebrow to Mason. “Got yourself a stalker, huh? Pictures plastered on the wall and everything?”
“Not quite,” I said. “Stuffed into an envelope. But she had documents and police reports linked to some of his cases in Little Rock. The one she seemed to pay the most attention to was a hit and run from five years ago.”
Mason leaned his arm on the table, his hand in a tight fist. “It never went to trial. The kid drowned.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “If you tell me you drowned that kid, I will rip you to pieces with my bare hands.”
Skeeter scooted his chair back, disgust on his face. “Sorry, Deveraux, but you’ll have to find another reason to kill me. Like I said, I wanted no part of that. When I realized what he was askin’ me to do, I quit on the spot.” He cast another glance to Jed before returning his gaze to Mason. His jaw clenched, and his eyelid ticked. “I saw a kid drown once. Never again, and definitely not by my hand.”
“But he died,” Mason countered, sounding unimpressed. “Someone still killed that boy, and you could have stopped it.”
Skeeter looked like he was about to leap across the table and tear Mason’s throat out. “It was such a heinous request, so different from what he normally asked me to do, that I decided it was a test of my loyalty. One I’d failed. I never thought he’d ask someone else to do it.” He stared down at his fist, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “But I found out the kid was dead a few days later. I was wrong, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about that mistake. My guess is that Mooney ended up murdering the kid to clean up his own mess, but he did it on orders.”
“Try telling that to that poor kid’s parents,” Mason sneered.
“If it makes you feel any better, you got your justice, albeit five years too late. Pete Mooney was beaten to death a few days ago.” His gaze shifted to me. “And not by my hands. I wanted him alive.” He pushed out a breath. “J.R. must have figured out I was lookin’ for him.”
Mason looked like he was about to be sick. “I was looking for him too. He was a person of interest in the investigation of the investigator who was supposed to question the DA and instead had me fired.”
“So we both got screwed on that one,” Skeeter said.
“If you’re planning to murder Simmons tonight, I refuse to take any part of it,” Mason said, his voice cold. “And like Rose said, if that’s your plan, you don’t need us. No one knows where we are. Just give us a car, and we’ll go hide out somewhere until things blow over.”
Skeeter clenched his jaw so tightly I could hear his teeth grinding. “And I’m supposed to believe you’ll just let me murder him? That you’re not gonna give some warning to the authorities?”
Mason didn’t say anything.
Skeeter began to laugh, and the three of us looked at him as if he’d lost his ever-loving mind. “Last night I gave Rose an ultimatum about your response. Is that your final answer?”
My voice didn’t sound like my own as I turned to him. “I suggest you give this very careful consideration, Skeeter Malcolm.”
He just started to laugh harder.
“I am deadly serious,” I said, my blood pressure rising. “You will regret it for the rest of your life if you hurt him.”
He stopped laughing. “I know how to hurt him without touching a hair on his head.”
Mason got to his feet. “You would hurt Rose? I thought she was valuable to you.”
“That’s not all you care about, though, is it?” Skeeter’s eyes glittered with a secret.
Mason gasped. “Are you threatening my mother?”
Skeeter snorted. “I have some other information you might be interested in knowin’. Something more personal. I was keepin’ it under wraps to use as a bargaining tool in case you got your job back and I found myself in need of a get out of jail free card, but I realized it might prove more useful now.”
Mason froze.
Oh, God. Did he mean what I thought he did?
“I may have stopped cleanin’ up Prince Simmons’ messes, but that didn’t mean J.R. stopped havin’ them scrubbed.”
I reached over and took Mason’s hand in mine.
Skeeter looked Mason in the eye. “You may have thought you got your justice when you beat Michael Cartwright to a bloody pulp for your sister’s murder, but you left the man who orchestrated the entire thing free and clear.”
Mason’s arm was so tense, it felt like he was about to shatter into a million pieces.
“The man you’re lookin’ for—” Skeeter said in a slow drawl, “—is none other than J.R. Simmons. How do you feel about killin’ him now?”
Chapter 28
Mason took several breaths. “Do you have proof of this, or is it merely a supposition?”
Skeeter grinned, but it was bitter. “Hearsay. It’s accurate, but not enough to prove it to anyone in a court of law.”
Mason pulled his hand loose from mine and stood, running a hand through his hair. “Goddammit.” Grief saturated the word. “That man has stolen or tainted so much of my life, and he gets away with it time and time again.”
“Not if we kill him. Together. I have a plan. We both want our revenge. We’ll mete it out together.”
Mason stared at the wall for several seconds, and then shook his head, defeat in his eyes. “No. I can’t condone that. Not even for him.”
“Not quite,” I said. “Stuffed into an envelope. But she had documents and police reports linked to some of his cases in Little Rock. The one she seemed to pay the most attention to was a hit and run from five years ago.”
Mason leaned his arm on the table, his hand in a tight fist. “It never went to trial. The kid drowned.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “If you tell me you drowned that kid, I will rip you to pieces with my bare hands.”
Skeeter scooted his chair back, disgust on his face. “Sorry, Deveraux, but you’ll have to find another reason to kill me. Like I said, I wanted no part of that. When I realized what he was askin’ me to do, I quit on the spot.” He cast another glance to Jed before returning his gaze to Mason. His jaw clenched, and his eyelid ticked. “I saw a kid drown once. Never again, and definitely not by my hand.”
“But he died,” Mason countered, sounding unimpressed. “Someone still killed that boy, and you could have stopped it.”
Skeeter looked like he was about to leap across the table and tear Mason’s throat out. “It was such a heinous request, so different from what he normally asked me to do, that I decided it was a test of my loyalty. One I’d failed. I never thought he’d ask someone else to do it.” He stared down at his fist, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “But I found out the kid was dead a few days later. I was wrong, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about that mistake. My guess is that Mooney ended up murdering the kid to clean up his own mess, but he did it on orders.”
“Try telling that to that poor kid’s parents,” Mason sneered.
“If it makes you feel any better, you got your justice, albeit five years too late. Pete Mooney was beaten to death a few days ago.” His gaze shifted to me. “And not by my hands. I wanted him alive.” He pushed out a breath. “J.R. must have figured out I was lookin’ for him.”
Mason looked like he was about to be sick. “I was looking for him too. He was a person of interest in the investigation of the investigator who was supposed to question the DA and instead had me fired.”
“So we both got screwed on that one,” Skeeter said.
“If you’re planning to murder Simmons tonight, I refuse to take any part of it,” Mason said, his voice cold. “And like Rose said, if that’s your plan, you don’t need us. No one knows where we are. Just give us a car, and we’ll go hide out somewhere until things blow over.”
Skeeter clenched his jaw so tightly I could hear his teeth grinding. “And I’m supposed to believe you’ll just let me murder him? That you’re not gonna give some warning to the authorities?”
Mason didn’t say anything.
Skeeter began to laugh, and the three of us looked at him as if he’d lost his ever-loving mind. “Last night I gave Rose an ultimatum about your response. Is that your final answer?”
My voice didn’t sound like my own as I turned to him. “I suggest you give this very careful consideration, Skeeter Malcolm.”
He just started to laugh harder.
“I am deadly serious,” I said, my blood pressure rising. “You will regret it for the rest of your life if you hurt him.”
He stopped laughing. “I know how to hurt him without touching a hair on his head.”
Mason got to his feet. “You would hurt Rose? I thought she was valuable to you.”
“That’s not all you care about, though, is it?” Skeeter’s eyes glittered with a secret.
Mason gasped. “Are you threatening my mother?”
Skeeter snorted. “I have some other information you might be interested in knowin’. Something more personal. I was keepin’ it under wraps to use as a bargaining tool in case you got your job back and I found myself in need of a get out of jail free card, but I realized it might prove more useful now.”
Mason froze.
Oh, God. Did he mean what I thought he did?
“I may have stopped cleanin’ up Prince Simmons’ messes, but that didn’t mean J.R. stopped havin’ them scrubbed.”
I reached over and took Mason’s hand in mine.
Skeeter looked Mason in the eye. “You may have thought you got your justice when you beat Michael Cartwright to a bloody pulp for your sister’s murder, but you left the man who orchestrated the entire thing free and clear.”
Mason’s arm was so tense, it felt like he was about to shatter into a million pieces.
“The man you’re lookin’ for—” Skeeter said in a slow drawl, “—is none other than J.R. Simmons. How do you feel about killin’ him now?”
Chapter 28
Mason took several breaths. “Do you have proof of this, or is it merely a supposition?”
Skeeter grinned, but it was bitter. “Hearsay. It’s accurate, but not enough to prove it to anyone in a court of law.”
Mason pulled his hand loose from mine and stood, running a hand through his hair. “Goddammit.” Grief saturated the word. “That man has stolen or tainted so much of my life, and he gets away with it time and time again.”
“Not if we kill him. Together. I have a plan. We both want our revenge. We’ll mete it out together.”
Mason stared at the wall for several seconds, and then shook his head, defeat in his eyes. “No. I can’t condone that. Not even for him.”
