boy’s face like he was looking for something that was missing. Two men walked up to the counter, and Big Bill turned his attention to them. “Perry! Taki! How you boys doin’ tonight?”
“Just fine, William. Looks like business is booming.” The older man grinned. He had silver hair and thick black eyebrows. He set a briefcase down on the counter. “Who knew this roller-skating was such a gold mine?”
“It’s these kids. What can I say? Seven days a week, they love it. The money practically prints itself.” Bill rolled a pair of skates over to Jasper. “That’ll be fifty cents, kid.”
Jasper knew it was his cue to leave, but he couldn’t give up that easily. “What did you want to tell her?”
The two men turned and raised their bushy eyebrows at him. The second, younger man looked like he’d been in a fight. His face was a map of cuts and bruises.
Big Bill just laughed. “Sorry, kid. I haven’t seen your little friend. Now, go have fun.”
CHAPTER 14
Don’t you want to identify all potential suspects? Then answer the question.
Jasper woke up early the next morning to the dull thump of Aunt Velma throwing fresh logs in the woodstove on the other side of the curtain. Wayne was still snoring at the other end of the bed. Jasper waited until the front door opened and shut again and the cabin went quiet before sitting up.
Utter relief washed over him when he felt the dry mattress. He climbed out of bed in silence and pulled on his clothes in the pink morning light filtering in from the window. Wayne rolled over but kept on snoring. Jasper carried his shoes to the door, not putting them on until he was out on the porch.
Twenty feet behind the cabin, he caught sight of his aunt disappearing into the outhouse. With the coast clear, he scuttled across the driveway and into the barn. The cows stirred in their pens as he slipped by them to the far corner under the feed bins where his mother’s book was waiting.
August 15, 1928
It was just as easy as he said it would be. I showed up at Mr. Hoyt’s barn at three o’clock, and he had a cart loaded with ten brown jugs like the one he’d had me smell.
“Now, just take this up to Burtchville to a little café called Steamboat’s. It’s on Lake Road. When you get there, ask for Big Bill. Can you do that?” he asked.
I told him I could.
“If anybody stops you to ask, I want you to tell ’em you’re haulin’ buttermilk. Alright? And if anybody wants to check, let him sniff the last jug on the right.”
He pointed to a jug that looked like all the others. I must’ve looked worried, because then he said, “Don’t worry. No one’s going to stop and bother a sweet young thing like you. Just look like your papa will whup you if you’re late, and they’ll let you go.”
“Steamboat’s. Big Bill. No problem,” I said and took off with Hoyt’s rickety old mare, Josie. The cart creaked and squeaked the whole way, and the jugs clanked and rattled as I tried to forget what Mr. Hoyt had called me. He’d called me a “thing.” I passed four carts on the road, but no one even looked at me sideways.
Steamboat’s was a small six-table restaurant just like the others that lined Lake Road. You could only pick it out by the tiny handwritten sign hanging from two hooks over the door, but I found it. When I walked in, there was nobody there but an old lady behind the lunch counter. I begged her pardon and asked, “Is there a Big Bill here?”
“You got a delivery? He’s in the back.” Her voice sounded like a rusty nail, and I wondered if she knew what I was delivering. Mr. Hoyt called it “giggle water,” but the lady looked like she hadn’t laughed in years.
I pulled the cart around to the back of the restaurant and found an enormous man with black hair sitting on a stool by the grease trap. It smelled worse than any gut wagon I’d ever whiffed, and I almost lost my lunch on his splattered apron.
“Are you Big Bill?” I asked.
He just
“Just fine, William. Looks like business is booming.” The older man grinned. He had silver hair and thick black eyebrows. He set a briefcase down on the counter. “Who knew this roller-skating was such a gold mine?”
“It’s these kids. What can I say? Seven days a week, they love it. The money practically prints itself.” Bill rolled a pair of skates over to Jasper. “That’ll be fifty cents, kid.”
Jasper knew it was his cue to leave, but he couldn’t give up that easily. “What did you want to tell her?”
The two men turned and raised their bushy eyebrows at him. The second, younger man looked like he’d been in a fight. His face was a map of cuts and bruises.
Big Bill just laughed. “Sorry, kid. I haven’t seen your little friend. Now, go have fun.”
CHAPTER 14
Don’t you want to identify all potential suspects? Then answer the question.
Jasper woke up early the next morning to the dull thump of Aunt Velma throwing fresh logs in the woodstove on the other side of the curtain. Wayne was still snoring at the other end of the bed. Jasper waited until the front door opened and shut again and the cabin went quiet before sitting up.
Utter relief washed over him when he felt the dry mattress. He climbed out of bed in silence and pulled on his clothes in the pink morning light filtering in from the window. Wayne rolled over but kept on snoring. Jasper carried his shoes to the door, not putting them on until he was out on the porch.
Twenty feet behind the cabin, he caught sight of his aunt disappearing into the outhouse. With the coast clear, he scuttled across the driveway and into the barn. The cows stirred in their pens as he slipped by them to the far corner under the feed bins where his mother’s book was waiting.
August 15, 1928
It was just as easy as he said it would be. I showed up at Mr. Hoyt’s barn at three o’clock, and he had a cart loaded with ten brown jugs like the one he’d had me smell.
“Now, just take this up to Burtchville to a little café called Steamboat’s. It’s on Lake Road. When you get there, ask for Big Bill. Can you do that?” he asked.
I told him I could.
“If anybody stops you to ask, I want you to tell ’em you’re haulin’ buttermilk. Alright? And if anybody wants to check, let him sniff the last jug on the right.”
He pointed to a jug that looked like all the others. I must’ve looked worried, because then he said, “Don’t worry. No one’s going to stop and bother a sweet young thing like you. Just look like your papa will whup you if you’re late, and they’ll let you go.”
“Steamboat’s. Big Bill. No problem,” I said and took off with Hoyt’s rickety old mare, Josie. The cart creaked and squeaked the whole way, and the jugs clanked and rattled as I tried to forget what Mr. Hoyt had called me. He’d called me a “thing.” I passed four carts on the road, but no one even looked at me sideways.
Steamboat’s was a small six-table restaurant just like the others that lined Lake Road. You could only pick it out by the tiny handwritten sign hanging from two hooks over the door, but I found it. When I walked in, there was nobody there but an old lady behind the lunch counter. I begged her pardon and asked, “Is there a Big Bill here?”
“You got a delivery? He’s in the back.” Her voice sounded like a rusty nail, and I wondered if she knew what I was delivering. Mr. Hoyt called it “giggle water,” but the lady looked like she hadn’t laughed in years.
I pulled the cart around to the back of the restaurant and found an enormous man with black hair sitting on a stool by the grease trap. It smelled worse than any gut wagon I’d ever whiffed, and I almost lost my lunch on his splattered apron.
“Are you Big Bill?” I asked.
He just
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