Free Three Times Lucky by Sheila Turnage Page A

Which is that I don’t think law enforcement should meddle in people’s lives. That I don’t believe my purchases are any of your business. That the only thing as dangerous as an arrogant attorney is an overzealous lawman. Again, I apologize. I bought that car legally and I should have just said so. Now, if there’s nothing else?”
    I stepped near the Colonel.
    Starr studied us for one cold, flat minute. “Don’t leavetown,” he told the Colonel. Then he nodded to me and headed for the door.
    We watched him climb into his Impala. “He’s going to be trouble,” the Colonel said, unplugging the jukebox.
    “Yes, sir,” I said, thinking of Dale. “If you ask me, he already is.”

Chapter
7
Desperados
    The Colonel and I trudged toward home—the flip side of the café. “Been thinking of installing a safety light back here,” he muttered as we followed the gravel walkway through Miss Lana’s dogwoods and daylilies.
    “No you haven’t,” I said, slipping my hand in his. “
Miss Lana
wants a safety light. You said you’d be fricasseed in hell before you’d drown out the stars.”
    We marched up the rounded steps, to the porch. “Didn’t you leave your night-light on, Soldier?” he asked, stopping by Miss Lana’s potted geraniums.
    I gulped. “I always leave my Elvis light on, sir,” I said. “It’s an eternal flame.”
    “Stay back,” he replied, stiff-arming me against the wall.
    He eased my screen door open, its voice rising like a rusty hymn. In one motion he flipped my light on and sprang inside. He yanked open my mahogany chifforobe, dropped to his belly to peer under my bed, and then leaped into my bathroom. “All clear,” he barked,latching my windows. He grabbed my night-light and thumped Elvis’s head. “Burned out,” he muttered, tossing it aside. “How fitting.”
    He waved me in and dead-bolted my porch door behind me.
    I followed him into our living room. As he checked for intruders, my eyes wandered to the photograph of Miss Lana and me during my baby days. In it, she sits on a perfect lawn, her skirt spread around her like a paper parasol as I present her with a dandelion. She is young and beautiful, and I am plump and adorable.
    The Colonel locked the front door. “Good thing Lana isn’t here,” he said. “She was fond of Jesse.” I could smell the garlic on his shirt. “Are you scared, Soldier?”
    I took a shaky breath. I
was
scared, but not for the reason he thought. I slid my hand in my pocket, to the reward money, and felt dizzy. If Attila Celeste remembered who she saw by Mr. Jesse’s house, or if Skeeter blabbed, Dale could be in trouble. Big trouble. I had to warn him. “I’m not scared,” I lied. “Are you?”
    “A little,” he said.
    “Me too.” I hesitated, staring toward my dark bedroom. “I can leave my door open tonight if you’d like. That way I can hear you, if you need me.”
    I caught the flicker of a smile in his dark eyes. “That might make me feel better,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll sleepon the sofa. That way it will be easy to find me if I call.”
    “Excellent, sir,” I said, giving him a hug.
    In my room, I slipped into my night gear: black karate pants and an old T-shirt. I glanced at my phone and considered calling Miss Lana. I wanted her to come home. Now. On the other hand, I didn’t want to tell her about Mr. Jesse. I picked up a pen and Volume 6 instead:
    Dear Upstream Mother,
    Mr. Jesse is dead. Even the Colonel is scared.
    I wish you were here. We could make some tea, and chat about Joe Starr, and Dale, and poor dead Mr. Jesse. We’d make a plan, and you’d sit and work a crossword until I fell asleep. Everything would be normal for me.
    Sometimes I wish Miss Lana and the Colonel were normal, but Lavender says normal is a relative term. “Right,” I said. “What does that mean, exactly?” He said, “It means you think your relatives are normal right up until you notice they’re not.”
    I even mentioned it to Miss