Dead to Rights by Jack Patterson (fiction book recommendations .txt) 📕

the glass as he and Kelly entered Hank’s Pawn Shop. Cal expected a somber environment since he was sure that the news of Jordan Hayward’s death had already spread like wildfire in the tight-knit community. But he didn’t expect to find an empty showroom again.

“Hello?” Cal called. “Is anyone here?”

He waited a beat. Nothing.

“Hello?” Kelly said. “Anybody home?”

Except for the faint sound of a radio playing from somewhere else in the building, it was eerily silent.

“Let’s go find out what’s going on,” Cal said, pressing ahead toward the doorway to the back. He parted the thick plastic strips hanging over the doorjamb and held them open for Kelly. Once she walked through, he turned to see Hank staring at a chest full of money.

Hank looked up at the pair after Cal cleared his throat.

“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” Hank said, a cigarette bobbing as it dangled from his lips. He stood up and stepped back from a large wooden trunk, a trunk loaded with neat stacks of twenty-dollar bills.

Cal noticed the name Jordan etched into the side of the box and a crowbar lying next to it.

“I’m not the cops, Hank, so you don’t have to worry about me,” Cal said. “But this does raise some suspicion about what you’re doing right now with presumably Jordan’s chest, which is full of money.”

Hank used his foot to flip the lid shut before resting his right leg on top of the chest.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Hank said, glancing down at the crowbar.

Cal eyed Hank closely and waited a second. In a flash, Cal jammed his foot on top of the bar, raking it to himself along the concrete floor. It wasn’t a moment too soon, either, as Hank had lunged for the prying device as well.

Cal held his hands up in a posture of surrender.

“We just came here to talk about Jordan Hayward’s death and see if you guys know anything,” Cal said. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“And neither do we. So, I suggest you get on outta here.”

Kelly perked up. “Without any answers? I don’t think so.”

One of Hank’s employees, who’d been watching the entire exchange take place from a corner of the room, stepped forward. He had the name Gary emblazoned on an oval name tag attached to the right side of his chest.

“Jordan was into some—”

Hank held up his hand. “What’s wrong with you, Gary? Do you wanna get killed, too?”

“No, sir, I don’t. That’s why I think you oughta tell them—”

Hank spun around and started yelling over him. “Another word out of you and you’re fired. You understand me?”

Gary nodded and continued sifting through a pile of musical instruments scattered haphazardly on a storage shelf.

Hank turned back around to face Cal and Kelly.

“I’m not sure how Jordan got all this money. It certainly is odd that he’d wanna keep it here at work.”

Gary rattled around with the instruments, making plenty of noise.

“You sure he wasn’t stealing from you?” Cal asked.

“I keep the books myself, so I’d know if he was,” Hank said. “Wherever this came from, it wasn’t this store.”

Gary stood up and jogged toward them. “Stop lying through your teeth, Hank, and tell them the truth. At least maybe Jordan will get some justice. He’s dead now. It’s the least he deserves.”

Hank sneered. “Jordan deserved a bullet to the head.”

“That’s not how it ended for him,” Cal said.

“Oh?” Hank said, somewhat surprised.

“Strangled to death, likely by someone he knew.”

“Tell ‘em, Hank.”

“Shut up, Gary,” Hank said.

Gary strode toward the trio, refusing to comply with Hank’s demands to be quiet.

“It was the Enforcer.”

“The who?” Kelly asked.

Hank put his hand on his forehead, shaking it as he glowered at Gary in disgust.

“I told you not to say another word,” Hank said.

Gary ignored Hank and continued to answer Cal. “Jordan worked for a regional drug dealer named the Enforcer. The word on the street was the Enforcer was looking for Jordan because he was supposedly skimming some money off the top. Needless to say, you don’t wanna mess with the Enforcer.”

“So, you don’t think any of this had to do with Isaiah Drake’s case?”

Gary furrowed his brow, staring awkwardly at Cal. “Why would it?”

Cal shrugged. “Just a theory I’m playing with.”

“Uh, no. Jordan had plenty of problems, but he and Drake were thick as thieves, literally.”

“Literally?” Kelly asked. “Meaning, they were actually thieves?”

Gary nodded. “Not sure about Jordan, but I know Drake got caught once with some other guys. I can’t remember who all was involved, but I know the sheriff let Drake off the hook.”

“Gary, you’re gonna get popped in the mouth if you keep talkin’,” Hank groused. “Especially if you keep talkin’ about things that you don’t really know about.”

Cal cocked his head and stared at Hank. “So, since you obviously know what happened, do you want to tell me?”

Hank glared at Gary. “I think Gary has said enough for the both of us.”

“Suit yourself,” Cal said. “I won’t ever reveal you as my source if you change your mind.” He handed Hank a business card. “Call me if you decide you want to help me tell an authentic story.”

Hank snatched the card from Cal’s hand and shuffled off toward his office.

Cal turned to Gary. “Thanks. I appreciate all your help.”

“Good luck, y’all,” Gary said.

“Keep your luck,” Kelly said over her shoulder as she and Cal began walking away. “Based on how your boss just responded, you’ll probably be needing it more than we will.”

Cal and Kelly returned to the Okefenokee Inn so Cal could write his story about the mysterious circumstances surrounding Jordan Hayward’s death and Kelly could upload a few pictures. In about an hour, they were both done and determined a celebration was in order at The Pirate’s Den later that evening.

Just as they were about to walk out the door, Cal’s cell rang. It was Marsha Frost.

“I was just thinking about calling you,” Cal said. “This story just keeps getting better and better. It shouldn’t be too