Free Voodoo Daddy (A Virgil Jones Mystery) by Thomas L. Scott

here’s the number of the seafood place in Elkhart. They’re expecting your call.” She handed me a slip of paper with the info. “They said, and I quote, ‘as a favor to me and because you’re a new customer, they’ll move you to the front of the line.’ They’ve got a truck coming to Indy today. If you could call them soon enough, you’d be all set.”
    “Aw, jeez, Margery, that’s great. But, uh, I probably won’t have time to call them.” I pulled one of my cards out of my wallet and handed it to her. “Do me a favor? Call the number on this card and ask for Robert. He’s my chef. Tell him I said to order whatever he needs, okay?”
    “Sure. That’s no problem. You said you wanted to run something by me?”
    “I do. Look, I usually don’t ask this, but you seem to sort of have your ear to the ground around here, so I was sort of hoping you could let me know if you hear of anything that might be, uh, let’s say, out of the ordinary.”
    Margery looked around, like someone might be listening. “Like what?”
    “Anything really. Something out of place, someone acting strange, uptight, saying something out of character, something they wouldn’t normally do or say. Don’t do anything about it, but call me and let me know, will you?”
    “Sure, sounds a lot like what I do already.” She gave me a little eyebrow wiggle. “And, as long as we’re trading favors, how about you do a little something for me?”
    “Uh, maybe,” I said, a little skeptical. “What is it?”
    “Oh don’t get all coppish on me.”
    “No, no. I’m not. What is it?”
    “Well, earlier I told you I was thinking about retiring and spending some time on the beach.”
    “Yeah? Boy I could tell you about some great places in Jamaica. I go every February for a month.”
    “No, no. I was wondering…your two guys?
    “Yeah?”
    “Well, you know….the cute one. Is he attached or anything? I was hoping you could put a word in for me.”
    I sort of puffed out my cheeks. “Margery, I’ll be the first to admit I’m not very religious, and I mean not at all. But with God as my witness, I don’t know which one qualifies as the cute one.”
    Margery huffed a little. “You know….the tall one. What’d you call him? Rosie?”
    “He’s the cute one?”
    Margery gave me a slow blink. Twice. “Oh, honey, are you kidding me? I’d like to buy him a few of those rum punches and get him into a man thong on the beach. You might not ever see him again.”
    “Aw jeez, Margery.”
    “What?”
    “I’ve got to work with the guy pretty much every day. Now every time I look at him…”

 
     
    CHAPTER NINE
     
     
    I could feel the day starting to slip away. I had a court appearance scheduled from a previous case in a little over two hours. I thought about calling Sandy—even picked up my phone to do it—but then tossed it back on the passenger seat of my truck. The doctor had told her to get some rest. No sense in bugging her if she was actually doing what she’d been told her. My thoughts of Sandy made me think about what she’d said about the Governor’s wife being out of town…how she’d been there with the Governor at his home, at night, just the two of them…
    But those thoughts were nothing more than basic jealousy.
    So, Sandy. People say that there is no such thing as love at first sight, and on the whole I used to be one of them, but when I met Sandy everything changed. I’m not sure I can adequately explain the connection between us, but there is something more to her, to us, than a physical lust or even an emotional bond. I am drawn to her in ways that are foreign to me. In truth, I felt a little like a dopey school boy. A middle-aged dopey school boy. The politics of it could get complicated. We are on the same unit, I’m her boss. There are rules about these sorts of things.
    But… maybe fuck the politics .
     
    * * *
     
    I had never seen Samuel Pate’s residence, but I had a rough idea where his house was