Good Lookin': A Joe Turner Mystery by T. L. Bequette

Author:T. L. Bequette [Bequette, T. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery; twins; legal; murder trial; thriller; loyalty; whodunit; brothers; lawyer
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Published: 2021-02-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

In an effort to ease the pressure on his handcuffed wrists, Jesse leaned forward in his hard vinyl seat in the back of the police cruiser. He rested his forehead against the steel mesh cage, cursing his rotten luck. He wasn’t even going to get high today. He actually planned on going to court just to put the suits’ minds at ease. But he wasn’t going to testify. After all, this was Oakland—and he was a survivor. He’d go to court and he’d keep in touch with the old hippie investigator then disappear right before it was his time to testify. That was the play.

But now he was fucked. He’d overslept and then his ride to court had bailed on him. He knew if he showed up late, they would want to put him in jail until the trial was over. And he couldn’t go back to jail, especially not as a witness to a gang hit.

In some ways, the juvy pen had been easier than life on the streets. It had been hard at first. Being away from Damon, mostly. Then having to fight to show you’re nobody’s bitch. But he’d figured it out. Got through his twelve years relying on his smarts and playing the angles. He’d peddled dope the guards would smuggle in, traded cigarettes, sold himself when he had to. For a while he had a racket renting out books that Damon would send him. The first of a series was free, then it was a dollar a book.

Out here on the streets, though, there was too much drama. Who owes who money? Who stole who’s stash? Who snitched? One thing about prison, you damn sure knew what to expect every day. Out here, though, there were too many variables. Too much could go wrong. He’d been out less than two years and had already been back to jail three times.

Like today, after he missed court, he was just going to lay low. But Eva had called. She’d scored some weed, probably after rolling one of her johns. He didn’t ask. Anyway, she wanted to smoke, so they got high in her motel room.

Still, everything had been cool until they got the munchies and he started craving pizza. Real pizza, not the ketchup and cheese on toast you could make in the pen. And not the cold dumpster pizza he and Damon had eaten growing up. Real hot bubbly pizza that burns the roof of your mouth. He’d only had it twice in his life. Once with Damon when he first got out.

So, he and Eva had ordered a pizza—pepperoni with extra cheese—and just like he’d planned it, he had waited for the delivery guy in the parking lot. He should have known, though, when he saw how athletic the guy looked. He should have called it off. But he kept thinking of that pizza.

He’d managed to surprise him from behind a car and snatch the box, but the guy was fast. That and being high had slowed him down.

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