Read Double Whammy (A Davis Way Crime Caper) for Free Online Page B

of a giant sugar gum tree in our backyard, singlehandedly, in one day. Mer and I were shoulder-to-shoulder at the kitchen window from sunup till sundown, Daddy throwing us waves and winks and giving us the signal that yes, now, bring him a glass of iced tea, as the tree that had shaded our childhood surrendered to our father. “Watch this, girls!” he hollered. He stood back, the sun beating down on his slick chest, and blew with the same force it takes to blow out candles on a birthday cake. The tree went down with a scream and a crash that shook the floor under our feet. “Daddy’s so strong,” Meredith panted. “The strongest,” I agreed.
    Once he snuck into our room in the dead of night, crouched between us, and whispered, “Come on, girls, it’s Sissy’s time.” We watched our father, the man who blew down trees and leapt cars, deliver a litter of pups with such tenderness and care that it made the momentous event more about him than the warm new puppies. Neither I, nor Meredith, nor Sissy, could take our eyes off him. He held three of those pups in his one hand.
    My daddy could snap his fingers and we would come running. He chastened us when he needed to with a cut of his eyes, and it felt like a sword slicing through. And this man, who I truly believe hung the moon in the sky, now rose from his chair with an unconscious groan and took his seat again, placing a hot cup of coffee in front of me with a deep sigh.
    “Oh, these old bones,” he said.
    “I love you, Daddy.”
    He smiled, and the gullies around his eyes deepened. “So what have you gotten yourself into, young lady?”
    I squirmed, wondering what I could and what I should say. “It’s security work.”
    “That much I gathered.”
    “With one of the casinos in Mississippi.”
    “In Biloxi,” he said.
    Meredith ratted me out.
    “Don’t blame your sister.”
    Daddy read my mind.
    “Blame Blanche.”
    Someone needed to go down for this. Might as well be Blanche, one of Pine Apple’s two bank tellers.
    “She called several weeks ago because your debit card was being swiped in Biloxi, and since then, by my count, you’ve been there seven more times.” He crossed his arms and leaned back. “I’m relieved to hear you say this is about a job, and not about Eddie.” He smiled. “Congratulations.”
    World’s Greatest Father.
    “Now, what can I do to help, Davis?”
    Universe’s Greatest Father.
      
    *    *    *
      
    On Sunday, I went through my apartment dumping out everything—closets, drawers, and cabinets—and attempted to put it back in a more orderly fashion. I didn’t intend to give up my apartment just yet, but should Mother make good on her threat to give away my worldly possessions just because my rent was a few dozen months in arrears, I could have Meredith intervene. It would be easier for my sister if she didn’t have to decide what to do with the baton collection left over from my high school fire-twirling days. Anything that in any way reminded me of my marriage went into black lawn-and-garden bags.
    It was time.
    Throwing away stack after stack of four-year-old magazines, restraining orders (so unnecessary), and eviction notices (from my own mother) gives one time to think. In the light of the sober day, it occurred to me that Natalie Middleton hadn’t asked me to tell her who won the Double Whammy game at all; she wanted to know how it was won. I had eighty-something work days to figure out how the game was won and avoid Eddie the Ass while I was at it. The farther I went down the I-screwed-up road, the hotter my face felt. Natalie Middleton must think I’m half crazy. I blamed it on the clock: gambling round the clock, liquor round the clock, and clocks in general, because time heals all divorces, and I was tired of waiting on it.
    The clock struck three when I hoisted the last garbage bag from my old life in the big blue dumpster, and with it, I mentally wiped my new-job slate clean. I’d show Natalie