nuts. The Bureau needs to tell the police about this whole undercover operation.”
“Think about us, Jan.” He raised an eyebrow. “Let’s get real. You’re in trouble over fraudulent tax returns and my record with the Bureau isn’t spotless. I’ve been something of a loose cannon the last year or so.”
“But still, this kind of thing…” Her voice trailed away as she looked at his face.
“Is it such a stretch? It’s not like we intended to hurt anyone. We still had the take from the last job since Jake missed the meet in Cherry Grove. It was something like a hundred grand. That along what we planned on getting in Titusville could provide quite a motive. Maybe we’d even have more if we’d been skimming from the other hold-ups. If the car’s destroyed, they aren’t going to find anything left. Law enforcement can speculate we planned to stage an explosion, make it look like we died in it, then grab the money and head for a new life.”
“Is that what the police are going to think?”
“Do you blame them? It fits, doesn’t it?” He shifted back into gear and checked his rearview mirror. “We need to find cover for a while and try to figure this thing out. See who wants us out of the way and this investigation shut down.”
Chapter Nine
“I’m going to try this place up ahead.” Mac pointed to a whitewashed, cinder-block building off the side of the road. Two aging gas pumps stood in front. A flickering neon sign proclaimed the business to be the Alabama-Rama Cafe. “Maybe we can get a bite to eat and find a newspaper.”
She nodded wearily. It seemed a million years since she pushed herself out of bed at the Major’s and shuffled around Mac on the floor to search for painkillers in the bathroom. After that, the day had gotten really bad. The candy bars he’d brought back from his hike into town still lay in the plastic bag. Neither of them had had an appetite.
He pulled in beside the café and let the engine die. “You go on in. I’m going to use the restroom.” He nodded toward the back.
She pushed through the door into a small lunchroom pausing briefly to inhale a fragrance of sugar, salt, and grease. At the counter, an older woman in a tight-fitting pink uniform and hairnet looked up from filling salt and pepper shakers.
“Come on in, hon.” She stopped her work and scrutinized her. “I’m Etta Wertz. Looks like you’ve had a long day. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, I’m Jan. Yeah, it’s been pretty long. Just ice water right now, if you please.” She took one of the aging cracked vinyl stools at the counter. It was nice to see a friendly face. It’d been a while.
“Sure.” Etta turned to scoop a tall plastic tumbler in an ice bin and fill it with water. She placed it on the counter along with a straw.
“You just passing through?” she asked. “We’re kind of on the road between Nowhere and Nevermore out here.”
“Yeah, we’re um, from the Atlanta area.”
“Well, welcome to the Alabama-Rama. My husband Louis and I bought the diner some twenty years ago. Business is pretty slow this time of day. Most of our crowd comes at lunch. We do catfish dinners. Supper is mainly sandwiches and take-out for folks heading home.”
She took a slow sip of her water. Her neck and shoulders ached with tension. Outside, she could see Mac frowning as he walked around the car. He knelt beside one of the tires to examine it. Was there a problem? Just what they needed. The car looked like the odometer had turned over more than once.
She pulled a plastic-covered menu from the holder and opened it. The prices didn’t look too bad, but how long would their money last? Maybe she should have held on to a few bills from their disastrous heist.
“You and your husband having car trouble?”
“Oh, we’re not married!” She responded automatically, flushing. “He’s just a friend. We’re traveling together.”
Did that sound suspicious? Not in this day and age. She was
“Think about us, Jan.” He raised an eyebrow. “Let’s get real. You’re in trouble over fraudulent tax returns and my record with the Bureau isn’t spotless. I’ve been something of a loose cannon the last year or so.”
“But still, this kind of thing…” Her voice trailed away as she looked at his face.
“Is it such a stretch? It’s not like we intended to hurt anyone. We still had the take from the last job since Jake missed the meet in Cherry Grove. It was something like a hundred grand. That along what we planned on getting in Titusville could provide quite a motive. Maybe we’d even have more if we’d been skimming from the other hold-ups. If the car’s destroyed, they aren’t going to find anything left. Law enforcement can speculate we planned to stage an explosion, make it look like we died in it, then grab the money and head for a new life.”
“Is that what the police are going to think?”
“Do you blame them? It fits, doesn’t it?” He shifted back into gear and checked his rearview mirror. “We need to find cover for a while and try to figure this thing out. See who wants us out of the way and this investigation shut down.”
Chapter Nine
“I’m going to try this place up ahead.” Mac pointed to a whitewashed, cinder-block building off the side of the road. Two aging gas pumps stood in front. A flickering neon sign proclaimed the business to be the Alabama-Rama Cafe. “Maybe we can get a bite to eat and find a newspaper.”
She nodded wearily. It seemed a million years since she pushed herself out of bed at the Major’s and shuffled around Mac on the floor to search for painkillers in the bathroom. After that, the day had gotten really bad. The candy bars he’d brought back from his hike into town still lay in the plastic bag. Neither of them had had an appetite.
He pulled in beside the café and let the engine die. “You go on in. I’m going to use the restroom.” He nodded toward the back.
She pushed through the door into a small lunchroom pausing briefly to inhale a fragrance of sugar, salt, and grease. At the counter, an older woman in a tight-fitting pink uniform and hairnet looked up from filling salt and pepper shakers.
“Come on in, hon.” She stopped her work and scrutinized her. “I’m Etta Wertz. Looks like you’ve had a long day. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, I’m Jan. Yeah, it’s been pretty long. Just ice water right now, if you please.” She took one of the aging cracked vinyl stools at the counter. It was nice to see a friendly face. It’d been a while.
“Sure.” Etta turned to scoop a tall plastic tumbler in an ice bin and fill it with water. She placed it on the counter along with a straw.
“You just passing through?” she asked. “We’re kind of on the road between Nowhere and Nevermore out here.”
“Yeah, we’re um, from the Atlanta area.”
“Well, welcome to the Alabama-Rama. My husband Louis and I bought the diner some twenty years ago. Business is pretty slow this time of day. Most of our crowd comes at lunch. We do catfish dinners. Supper is mainly sandwiches and take-out for folks heading home.”
She took a slow sip of her water. Her neck and shoulders ached with tension. Outside, she could see Mac frowning as he walked around the car. He knelt beside one of the tires to examine it. Was there a problem? Just what they needed. The car looked like the odometer had turned over more than once.
She pulled a plastic-covered menu from the holder and opened it. The prices didn’t look too bad, but how long would their money last? Maybe she should have held on to a few bills from their disastrous heist.
“You and your husband having car trouble?”
“Oh, we’re not married!” She responded automatically, flushing. “He’s just a friend. We’re traveling together.”
Did that sound suspicious? Not in this day and age. She was
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