CHAPTER SIX

ON THE DRIVE BACK to Ocean Alley I thought about what I'd learned. I had never known Joe once lived in Kansas, but why would I? Morehouse had not named the town, but how many armed robberies had there been in Kansas maybe four or five years ago? Armed robberies where police thought there could be an accomplice but the robber wouldn't name him? And why wouldn't the guy who went to prison name his accomplice? On television that was the kind of bargaining chip that got criminals reduced sentences.

I thought about how people described the man who was seemingly running away from Java Jolt. The description was no help, and it was more puzzling why someone had left at a run. Joe's visitor was the aggressor. Did Joe do something to force the man to leave? Joe is very fit. I've always thought he had a lifeguard's physique. He could have rousted the man in some way. Or maybe the man saw Max looking in and went after him.

You should stay out of this. That would be Scoobie's advice. I trust his judgment, but he wasn't the one who was almost run over by an SUV.

My thoughts turned back to Max. He had become independent in so many ways, but his thinking was far from that of an adult, and he was alone much of the time. I was about to turn onto Ferry from G Street to go to the appraisal office when I had an idea.

Max loves to help distribute food at Harvest for All, which we do three days each week. I don't usually encourage him to help, because his enthusiasm can slow us down. However, if I put him on the food pantry volunteer schedule for a week or two, I'd know to look for him if he didn't show up.

Now what? I stopped at Burger King for an early lunch and was greeted by a holler from Lester Argrow. He usually walked from his small office above First Bank, so he had no car parked in the Burger King lot. No way to avoid him, in other words.

"Jolie! Get your grub and come over here." Lester gestured from a table in a far corner of the eatery.

I gave Lester my practiced four-finger wave and ordered a burger and Dr. Pepper. He would want to badger me about the appraisal for Mr. Fielding's house if the figures seemed low to him. I didn't feel up for a badgering, but he does send Steele Appraisals more business than any other realtor.

I slid into the booth across from him as Lester closed the Ocean Alley Press and pushed aside the remnants of an order of french fries. "So, kid, guess you got it right on the Fielding place. At least old Mortimer thinks so."

I unwrapped my burger. "Harry and I worked hard to give him an estimate that will help you and him price it to sell."

"You know, if it wasn't for the damn comp thingys I could list 'em higher."

"List maybe, but perhaps not sell." I raised my Dr. Pepper as if toasting him.

Lester can change tacks faster than a sailboat in the America's Cup race. "So, whaddya think about how Joe got shot? You bein' there, and all."

"I was around the corner." Before he could ask another question I added my own. "Did you hear anybody say who they thought did it?"

He shook his head. "Couple other realtors think maybe a thief figured Joe’s burglar alarm was off because of the storm. Everybody knows he takes his deposit to the bank in the morning. Means there's money there overnight. Maybe Joe was walking to the bank."

"Hmm. That sounds like someone who knows him."

Lester shrugged. "Yeah, or somebody who watches who goes in and out of the bank when."

"It doesn't make sense he'd do it in the morning. He opens early. The bank doesn't."

"You heard of ATMs, right?"

I ignored the question. "He doesn't always have a helper, especially in the off season. How could he get to the bank every day?"

"Your reporter buddy stops by for a few minutes some days. Joe goes then."

"I didn't know that." I of course knew George worked at least a few hours every week at Java Jolt, but couldn't imagine he'd go out of his way for Joe. Anyone who knows both of the auburn-haired men has been expecting a blow-up. They've never gotten along.

"You want help?" Lester asked.

"With what?"

"Don't gimme that. Investigating. We're a good team. Remember the booze operation?"

I shook my head. "I'm not investigating anything."

Lester stabbed the folded newspaper with his forefinger. "Accordin' to Tiffany, you almost got run down yesterday. Had to be because of what you saw."

I would have groaned, but my mouth was half-full of hamburger. I swallowed. "Reporters embellish."

Lester ignored this. "Old Bones Morehouse ain't gonna look too hard. He wants whoever shot at you to be long gone outta town."

"First, no one shot at me. Second, Morehouse is probably ten years younger than you are."

Lester, who is in his early fifties, waved aside my comment. "Don't matter. Where was Joe before here, do you think? When anybody asked he said he came here from the Midwest. I learned how to do Internet searches. His name is spelled funny. I don't find a Joe Regan anywhere but here."

I took my last bite of burger and spoke out of one side of my mouth. "Because he is here, not someplace else."

"You know what I mean. There's usually stuff pops up from when someone lived someplace else. At least when it's only a few years ago. Joe's only been here about four years."

I stared at Lester for a second. "I didn't know that."

"You wouldn't, 'cause you've only been back here what, three years? And you weren't here long when you lived here before."

I certainly had not known Joe when I spent my junior year of high school with Aunt Madge in Ocean Alley. Until Joe told Sergeant Morehouse he used to live in Kansas, I had not given any thought to how long Joe had been in town. If I had, I would have assumed he'd been here longer than four years. He seemed to know everyone. But he would, since Java Jolt would have brought him into contact with more people than if he'd worked as an accountant or something.

"I wonder why he opened a coffee shop," I mused. "He isn't overly friendly."

"See, you're startin'." Lester leaned part way across the table. "We find out what he did before and we maybe know why someone wanted to off him."

I changed the subject. "How’s Ramona? Last email she sent said her graphic design course was even more work than she thought it would be." I really miss her.

"I like what she draws, especially when it's a caricature of the president of the Board of Realtors. I don’t know why she’s gotta start using computers for art stuff." He brightened. "Maybe Max could talk to her and she could kinda draw a suspect."

I slurped once more on my straw and stood. "Not going to get involved in this one, Lester."

"Gimme a break. If it wasn't for Max your ass would be grass and that SUV woulda been the lawnmower."

Ass would be grass? "I have to go to the office to pick up paperwork for an appraisal."

"I'm gonna do an open house at Fielding's this Sunday. Stop by if you wanna plan anything."

"Don't think so, Lester."

I gave him a taa-taa wave and headed for the courthouse. Papers would be on file for when Joe opened Java Jolt. Maybe there would be a clue about his financing or what he did before Java Jolt.

I COULD HAVE walked to the courthouse, but Lester would have noticed where I was going and followed. What a busybody.

I parked in the lot to one side of the building. Miller County has less land than any county in New Jersey, and its courthouse is also the smallest in the state. As I walked up the stone steps toward the first-floor offices I frequent, I glanced at the groomed lawn. Though not large, there are always flowers that befit the season. It looked as if someone had just planted a bunch of greenhouse-raised mums.

Usually I go to the Registrar of Deeds, which has information on all the properties in town and what they sold for. Staff in that office could tell me where to learn more about Java Jolt, but they all know me. They'd want to know what I was doing.

I meandered toward the Office of the Clerk of Court, stopping only to talk to a friend of Aunt Madge's, whose name I could not remember, to assure her I was fine.

The woman bobbed her head so hard I thought the bun on top would shake off. "What strange mishaps you get into young lady. If that Iraqi vet man hadn't been there, you could have been deader than a fish left on the beach after high tide."

I told her I was very fortunate. When it looked as if she wanted to talk more I fibbed. "I need to pick up some documents for an appraisal today. Thanks for the kind words."

To my back, she added, "Come visit us at First Prez this Sunday."

I turned to flash her a smile and walked to the counter in the clerk's office. The young assistant smiled at me. "Is Mrs. Finley trying to save your soul?"

A man's voice said, "She's beyond hope."

I turned to see George. Nuts! George would realize I wasn't doing appraisal work.

"You shouldn't talk to yourself," I told him, and turned back to the blonde assistant. She was about twenty-five, with very alert green eyes. "Where would I find information filed on a local business?"

George sidled next to me, and I could almost feel him smirking.

"That's funny, George just asked me the same question." She looked at him and back to me.

I smiled at her. "The insurance office probably wants to see how fast George can get a question answered."

"Oh, umm." Her nametag said Jessica, and she now looked confused.

"She's kidding," George said. "They already know I'm good."

I let my eyes travel heaven-ward and come back to look at Jessica. "I wanted to know if Joe Regan was the first owner of Java Jolt."

Jessica raised one eyebrow. "Everyone wants to know about Joe and Java Jolt. Do you know if he's okay?"

"Yeah," George chimed in. "Any word?"

I looked at George, who looked at Jessica and grinned. I said. "I heard he had surgery yesterday and it went well."

Jessica looked relieved. "Oh, that's good. He's where we all go for morning coffee."

I was tempted to tell Jessica that coffee was not the most important thing, but since I go to Java Jolt regularly, I didn't.

"Do you suppose someone will run it for him while he's sick?" Jessica asked.

I looked at George, who said. "That'd be a good idea."

He and I both looked at Jessica and she gave us a blank stare for a couple of seconds. "Oh, business records. A long time ago people filed business registration papers at the courthouse, but it's all done online now. I can give you the web site."

I tried to hide my disappointment. "Okay, thanks." I took a small notepad from the side pocket of my purse, and George pulled one from his shirt pocket. I noticed he still carried a thin reporter's notebook, which has the spiral on top.

Jessica rattled off a New Jersey government web site and added, "I think if they're small, like Joe, they mostly file stuff for taxes. But you can still see a list of businesses on the web."

We thanked her and walked back to the courthouse entry foyer, which has a few benches and doors that lead to other offices.

George was in reporter-grilling-source mode. "What have you been up to? Scoobie said you were going to leave this alone."

I stifled a sigh as I sat on a bench. George plopped next to me. "Are you going to tell Scoobie what I'm doing?"

"He might know you're up to something," George said, eyes laughing at me. "He called on his break this morning and made me swear to tell him if you wanted me to help you."

"And you, uh, already promised?"

George gave a half laugh, half whoop. "He is my best friend. Plus, I actually thought you might lay off, since you're only walking around today because of Max."

I stretched my arm out and back. "My elbow's still stiff, but I'm fine." When George didn't say anything, I added, "Okay, I promise I'll tell Scoobie what I did today when I see him tonight. If you'll tell me what you found out."

"Fair enough, if you'll really do it."

"I said I would." My tone was testy, and when George just looked at me I continued in a low tone. "I went to Neptune this morning. To see Joe."

"Even I wouldn't have the balls to do that."

"Only because you know people would recognize you as someone who used to be with the Ocean Alley Press."

"True. What did you find out?"

I described how Joe looked and that it was hard for him to talk.

"Go figure," George said.

"You want to hear this?" I took his silence as consent and continued.

When I finished telling him about Morehouse and Dana, he spoke slowly. "So, Joe was in Kansas, and some Kansas robber's fingerprint was on the door to Java Jolt."

"Yep. I didn't know he'd only been here for four years. Does he ever talk about where he was before that?"

"Not really, but some of his expressions are kind of...farmish."

"Farmish?"

"Like when they talked about building more dunes to protect the town, he said the mayor and council members were shutting the barn door after the horse got out."

"New Jersey has farms, too," I mused. "He never mentioned Kansas?"

"Nope. I've heard a couple of people ask if he grew up around here, and all he says was he bummed around the Midwest before he came here. He and I don't do a lot of chit-chat."

"Mmm. You have a key to Java Jolt?"

"Yeah, but police tape is still up." George eyed me for a moment. "I suppose I could tell Morehouse I want to get the place cleaned up for when Joe comes back."

"That's a good idea."

"Actually, I should. There's probably food that'll need to be eaten or tossed out before it rots." George stood. "You check the computer stuff. I'll swing by the station to ask if I can go in." He pointed a finger at me. "And tell Scoobie."

George walked away. I wanted to ask for leftover food that wasn't spoiled, but the health department says food we give away has to be fresh or in its original packaging. A glance at my phone said there was time to stop by Harvest for All to check on our supply of key items that kids eat. Tomorrow would be a donation day, and there are some things I'm not willing to be low on, even if I have to personally buy green beans or kids' cereal now and then.