Free A.L. Jambor - Where's Audrey? by A.L. Jambor

asked.
    “Some old lady. The kid worked for a water company. Jason told me about it. The kid would deliver her water and she asked him to live with her.”
    “Why would she do that?” Mel asked.
    “The kid was okay. He wasn’t like his old man. I guess the old lady needed help and she liked the kid.”
    “But why would she ask him to live with her?” Mel asked.
    “Who knows? Jason told me that she liked the kid. She had a spare room and offered it to the kid so he could help her out, you know, run errands and drive for her, stuff like that.”
    Joe took a drag off his cigarette. Conner could tell he wanted to say something else, but he was stalling. Conner was just about to ask Joe what was on his mind when he began to talk again.
    “These places,” he waved his hand around, “you can hear every word. One night they were arguing. The old man wanted to run a con on the woman. He told her that if she sold her house to him, junior would work for her for nothin’.”
    “He wanted the woman to sign over her house in exchange for services?” Conner asked.
    “Yeah. The kid didn’t want to, though. That’s why they argued.”
    Joe paused. He took a few drags off his cigarette.
    “The old man drank. He was always three sheets to the wind. He bragged about his plan. He thought he was some criminal mastermind. Only I guess the lady wasn’t buyin’ it. She told him no.” Joe took another drag from his cigarette. He coughed for about a minute, then took a deep breath. “She told the kid to get out. I heard Jason yellin’ at the kid one night. The kid said she told him to leave.”
    “Did you tell the police about this?” Conner asked.
    “No.” Joe crushed his cigarette in the ashtray on the floor next to his chair. “It wasn’t my business.”
    “But it’s relevant,” Conner said.
    “I didn’t want to rat on him. He was dead. What was the point?”
    “But his son might have killed him.”
    “He didn’t die that night. The night he died, the kid wasn’t around. No red car. Oh, burgundy car. Besides, I’d have heard them fighting. Jason was drunk and fell. He hit his head. End of story.”
    “Shit,” Conner said quietly. “Is there anything else you haven’t told the police?”
    Joe shook his head. He reached into his pocket and took out another cigarette. As he lit it, Conner stood.
    “What’s your last name?” Conner asked.
    “Why do you need that?” Joe said.
    “Your last name?”
    “Welsh.”
    “Thanks.”
    Conner began to move and Mel got up and followed. They walked back to the car and when they got there, Conner made notes on the conversation they’d had with Joe Welsh. He noted the house numbers, too.
    “What do you think?” Mel asked.
    “I think he fell and hit his head. If the kid had been there, Joe would have told the police.”
    Mel felt her body shaking. “This pisses me off so much.”
    “What? That they planned it?”
    “That she, shit. If she needed help, why didn’t she call us? She and my grandmother were getting along. We could have done something for her.”
    “She didn’t want to bother you. You live a thousand miles away. It might have seemed like an easy solution to her. And the kid might have been a con artist like his old man, only sober and charming.”
    It was getting dark. It was also dinnertime, and Conner’s stomach was growling.
    “You want to get something to eat?
     

     
    Mel called Vera and told her she would be home by nine. Vera told her she would wait up. Conner took her to Chili’s.
    Chili’s was decorated for the holidays, too. Mel tried to ignore them as the hostess sat them in a booth by the bar. After they ordered, Conner looked at Mel.
    “So what do you do in New Jersey?”
    “I manage a Starbucks. My supervisor made me take a vacation.”
    “They made you take a vacation?”
    “Yeah. I guess three years is a long time to go without some time off. It’s hard to take time off in that business.”
    “So this is your