Read Death By Derby 8 (Josiah Reynolds Mysteries) for Free Online Page A

involved with someone at this stage of her life. She’s got a lot on her plate.”
    Hmmm , I thought. This might be the time to fish for some information. “No one ever talks about Lincoln’s father. Not Eunice, not Lincoln, and certainly not Shaneika. I don’t think his birth was due to an Immaculate Conception. I have seen a picture of a handsome black man in her office.”
    “You’re fishing,” pointed out Asa.
    “Yes, I am. Are you going to tell me anything? Do you know something?”
    Asa rose with her empty plate and fork in hand. Bending over, she kissed the top of my head and then headed into the kitchen where she put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She then grabbed her jacket. “I have something to do. I’ll be back before dinner.”
    “I know you know something,” I called after her.
    “Later, alligator,” she remarked, heading toward the front door and waving goodbye.
    I slumped in my chair. How was I going to help Shaneika if no one ever told me anything? I suddenly got an idea.
    Maybe I would drop in at Al’s Bar and see an old friend.

14
    “M ay I sit down?” I asked my old buddy, Officer Kelly. I noticed that he was drinking bourbon.
    Kelly looked up with bloodshot eyes. He seemed surprised to see me. “If you must,” he replied, looking back down at his papers.
    Ignoring the less than welcoming invitation, I sat down in a battered, duct-taped booth. Picking up his glass, I took a sip of his drink.
    “Can I order you something?” he groused, taking the glass of bourbon away from me.
    I motioned to the waitress. “Yeah, I would like two cheeseburger platters with fries and two diet cokes with a cup of black coffee. Bring the coffee now, please.”
    “I’ll take another one of these,” ordered Kelly, waving his bourbon glass.
    I shook my head toward the waitress at that suggestion as I tidied up the table by combining all of Kelly’s papers and stacking them in a neat pile.
    “Working on a new poem?” I asked, giving them a quick perusal.
    “Maybe.”
    Leaning over the table, I sniffed Kelly. He reeked. Scrutinizing him, I noticed his face was covered in stubble and his shirt looked dirty. “You haven’t called me for months.” I thought for a moment. “Since you came to see Asa at the hospital around Christmas time, I haven’t heard a peep out of you. What gives?”
    I had come to weasel some information out of Kelly, but now that I saw the condition he was in, information was the last thing on my mind. Something was very wrong.
    Kelly winced.
    “Kelly?”
    He started to speak, but then clammed up when the waitress brought over his coffee. “I wanted another bourbon,” Kelly complained.
    “I’ve cut you off,” I interceded as the waitress put down the cup.
    Kelly began to gripe, but I interrupted, using the “mother” tone. “Shut up and drink the coffee. Miss, where’s our food? I think we need it fast.”
    Sensing that an unpleasant scene might be brewing, she skedaddled into the kitchen.
    Kelly took a sip of the hot coffee. “Tastes awful,” he complained.
    “Well, here’s some cream. Drink up,” I commanded. “Ah, here’s our food.” I poured ketchup on Kelly’s plate and salted his fries the way he liked.
    We ate in silence except for occasional encouragement from me to keep eating. Finally, we finished and I asked the waitress to clear our table. I noticed that the place was filling with regulars and the noise level had gone up. I could now talk to Kelly without the waitress overhearing our conversation.
    “What’s going on, Kelly?”
    Kelly looked away and seemed reluctant to speak.
    “I’ve known you since you were a boy. I feel like I’ve always been a second mother to you. Now give. I’m growing tired and my leg is starting to hurt. I’m running out of patience.”
    Kelly spread his hands out on the table. “My marriage is over,” he said simply.
    “What do you mean your marriage is over?”
    “She kicked me out.”
    “How long