Out To Get You (Vance Custer Novellas Book 1) by Jochem Vandersteen

Author:Jochem Vandersteen [Vandersteen, Jochem]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Sons of Spade
Published: 2014-10-16T04:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

IT WAS A short drive to the Chad’s grocery store. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was hoping to find out, but I also knew that following every thread of a story could lead to some interesting facts and at least a fuller narrative.

The store was a charming little thing. All clapboard and old fashioned tin decals. A banner said Movies For Rent. In a small town like this not everybody was using Netflix yet. They might even still be watching movies on a VCR. Primitive.

A cacophonous chime betrayed my entrance. I wasn’t disappointed by what I encountered inside. Vegetables and fruit were displayed in big wooden crates. There was a rack with potato chips, an ancient spinner rack with comic books, and a milkshake dispenser the size of an Apollo space capsule. I felt like I’d come home.

There were some ratty old paperbacks on sale as well. I browsed through them and picked up an old Richard Stark novel, the cover lurid and mysterious. I took a bag of Cheetos and a six-pack of Coors to go along with it and walked over to the cash-register. I was the only customer in the store.

Behind the cash register was a thin man in his late forties. He had unruly salt and pepper hair and a five-o-clock shadow. He was wearing an apron that said Little Tree Groceries and a yellow bow tie. His horn-rimmed glasses made him look a little like Mr. Peabody...or Sherman. Hell, I always get those two mixed up. He was skinny, but his arms looked strong, like a runner’s.

“These for ya?” he asked as I presented my groceries to him.

“Yes, please. You’ve got some pretty cool books over there, by the way.”

“They are? Wouldn’t know. We don’t sell that many books here, really. I think most of them have been on those shelves since I started running this store. Might have been around when my dad was still minding it.”

“So this is a family business?”

“Guess you could say that, yeah. Before my father owned it, it was ran by his daddy.”

“Your brother wasn’t interested in it?”

He gave me a wary eye. “Who are you? You’re not a local, but you seem to know me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m Vance Custer,” I said, extending a hand.

It was accepted. “Chad Cohen. But I’m thinking you already know that.”

“Yeah, I do. Let me explain… I’m a true crime writer. I’m here to look into the death of Burt Gifford.”

Chad leaned on his cash-register a bit. “Burt? Fred’s old buddy? What’s there to look into?”

“His wife isn’t so sure his death was accidental.”

“Sounded like it to me. Tragic, but accidental. Some out-of-towner got drunk and crashed a car into him. Bad luck following my brother and his old friends around.”

“Yeah… Sorry about your brother, by the way. It’s a damned evil disease.”

“It sure as hell is, man. Anyway, are you just here to pick up some beer and some reading material or is there more to it?”

“To be honest, I wanted to ask you some questions about your brother.

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