Lost Souls by J. Bishop (essential books to read .txt) 📕

in this world, then take two, relax, eat more pie, and consider my offer.” He relaxed back against his seat. “Life is too short for vengeance, Valerie. You’ll just end up with gray hair, a fat belly, and no friends. Ask my Uncle Rufus.” He picked up his coffee and took a gulp. “I’m going to get a reheat from Charlotte. If you’re here when I get back, I’ll know your answer.” He winked at her, stood with his cup, and walked into the kitchen.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mason pulled up to the small, dingy RV at the end of the trailer park and stopped his car. “Is this it?”

“According to the info Rem gave me, it is. This is Bradley’s lovely abode.” Mikey closed the map on her phone and put it away. “I think he’s due for some renovations.”

“I’ll talk to him about calling his decorator.” Mason unbuckled. “You stay here.”

Mikey dropped her jaw. “Hell, no. I’m going with you.”

“Mikey…”

“Mason, stop being so protective. This guy is more likely to collapse in tears than get in your face. Besides, I’ve taken a self-defense course.”

Mason narrowed his eyes. “You’ve taken one class.”

“And I kicked the shit out of marshmallow man. I told you.”

“I don’t think you can compare that to Bradley Stanford.”

“Yes, I can. Otherwise, what’s the point of taking the class?”

Mason gripped the steering wheel. “Mikey, please…”

“Is it because I’m a woman? Do we really need to get into a discussion about sexism in confrontational situations?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. If this gets confrontational, I don’t want you around.”

“So you are sexist?”

“I’m your brother.”

“Good for you. Can we go now?” She popped the door open.

Mason grabbed her wrist. “What are you going to do if he gets violent?”

“Would you stop worrying? He’s not going to get violent. He’s probably drunk anyway.”

“Which makes it worse.” He tried to think of how to dissuade her. “You know Remalla would agree with me.”

“What does he have to do with this? Just because he may agree doesn’t make it right. That Valerie Vain person approached you in the bar. She’s a P.I. If she were here, would you be telling her to back off?”

“She’s trained to deal with this.”

“How do you know? She could turn tail and run at the slightest noise.”

“I doubt it.” He thought back on Valerie in the bar. “She didn’t strike me as the type.”

“And I do?”

A flare behind his right eye made him grimace, and he gave in with a sigh. “If he gives the slightest indication that he’s dangerous, you get the hell out of there. You understand? I don’t care what’s happening to me. You got it?”

“If he’s hurting you─”

“Mikey, if you don’t agree right now, then we’re leaving.” He put his hand on the keys. “We’ll go to the movies instead, and watch someone in a cape with superpowers save the world.”

She huffed. “Fine. I’ll head for the hills at the first sign of trouble.”

“Thank you.” He pulled the keys from the ignition and opened his door.

Walking to the entry, Mason remained aware. The neighboring RVs were quiet, and he heard the faint sounds of a TV beyond Bradley’s door. He knocked. “Stay behind me,” he said to Mikey.

“What for?”

Mason heard footsteps, and the door opened. A tall, heavyset man with bags under his eyes, messy black hair, and several days’ worth of stubble stood in a worn brown bathrobe. “Can I help you?”

“Bradley Stanford?” asked Mason.

“Who’s asking?”

Mason held out his P.I. badge. “I’m Mason Redstone, and this is my associate, Mikey. We’re investigating the deaths of Chad Howard and your sister, Lydia. Can we ask you a few questions?”

Bradly didn’t move for a second, and his face dropped, but he showed no outward signs of distress. He stepped aside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” said Mikey.

They walked into the small RV, seeing the dirty floor, mangled blinds, dishes piled in the sink, and three beer bottles on a table beside a lumpy old couch. The TV was on and a black and white western was playing. The RV smelled like cigarettes and sweaty shoes. “We appreciate your time,” said Mason, putting his I.D. away. He half expected dead Lydia to make an appearance, but so far, it was just Bradley in the room.

“I talked to you on the phone, didn’t I?” Bradley pointed at Mikey.

“You did,” said Mikey. “We just had a few other questions to ask.”

“You talked to Shay, too?” he asked.

Mikey nodded.

“You got her all upset,” said Bradley. “She said you’re trying to pin this mess on us. Is that true?”

Mason instinctively stepped closer to Mikey. “We’re not trying to pin this on anyone. We’re just trying to get as much information as we can to find out what happened to Lydia and Chad.”

“But they arrested his wife. She’s the one you should be talking to.”

“And we have,” said Mason. “Believe me.”

“If she did it,” said Mikey. “We’ll happily prove it, but if she didn’t…”

“Then it has to be one of us, is that right?” His robe slightly parted and his chest hair stuck out.

“If you had nothing to do with it, then there’s nothing for you or your family to worry about,” said Mason. He debated how much to push. Bradley’s size and likely inebriation could make him a potential threat, and Mason wished he’d stuck to his guns and made Mikey wait in the car. But that bus had left the station, and they needed more information.

Bradley yanked on the tie on his robe. “My family ain’t nothing to write home about. We have our problems, but we sure as hell didn’t kill Lydia.” He stomped to the couch and picked up one of the beer bottles from the table.

“You’ve had your issues with the law, Mr. Stanford,” asked Mikey. “Have you ever been angry enough to hurt someone?”

Mason shot a glare at her, but Mikey ignored him.

“What are you saying?” asked Bradley. “You think I killed her? My sister?”

Mason opened his mouth, but Mikey spoke first. “Lydia was a successful