BUD
bell dinged over the door, Bud put a lid on his last warming pan, stuck it in the steam table, and made for his office. He closed the door behind him. Locked it. Reached up high on a shelf above his desk—the one where he kept his collection of beer steins. From the back, he pulled down one with a lid covered in dust. He hadn’t touched it in years. But someone else had.
He plopped down into his desk chair and turned the stein over in his hands, examining the fingerprints that were too small to be his. This was, of course, where Jimmy Beacon had found the little pink bow with the butterfly on it. The one Amelia had been wearing the day she died. Finding that bow was what had started Jimmy on his rampage, convinced Bud had kidnapped and murdered little Amelia.
Bud had practically forgotten her name. But he’d never forget the way she cried that day he carried her off from the park in Racine. He’d put his hand over her mouth so no one would hear. Especially the scrawny half-wit of a kid that had been with her. Huh. Jimmy. Never thought their paths would cross again. He should be more careful about the people he hired.
No doubt, Ryan Brandt would have been interested to see this stein. But Bud had no intention of ever telling him about it or the things inside. Memories. Mementos. Bud lifted the lid. Jimmy had pawed through them all—the faux pearl necklace and earrings. The pocket knife.
While he was on the topic, there were other murders Bud Weber had never told the cops about.
Bud lifted the crusted tube of lipstick and the onyx locket with the silver spider on the lid. Zayne’s.
His nostrils flared. This stein was private. Jimmy’d had no business digging around inside it like it meant nothing to anybody.
With a corner of his gravy-stained apron, Bud wiped the dust from the stein, and with it Jimmy’s fingerprints. He’d stick the stein in his safe, along with the black leather vest he liked to wear when he was in a mood to kill. The cops never needed to find this.
Question was, what set Jimmy on to Bud in the first place? What led him to poke around in Bud’s office and ultimately find his secret stash?
It didn’t take no genius to figure it out. The Man was to blame for this. There were no two ways about it. He was still sore about that time Bud went rogue on his precious plan and shot Tommy Thomlin, the boat captain. Well, what was Bud supposed to do? Thomlin had been getting nosy, threatening to take Bailey away from him. He’d needed to teach Thomlin a lesson.
But in payment for messing up the plan, The Man Upstairs had sicced Jimmy and his bomb on Bud. Bud’s spider senses and quick reflexes were the only things that had saved his bacon. The upshot? Jimmy was dead. Bud was alive. Jimmy’s big plan had totally failed—and with it, The Man’s.
Well, Bud had plans of his own now.
The Man was gonna pay for this.