The Biker Who Got Bumped Off (Daytona Beach Book 5) by Frank W. Butterfield

Author:Frank W. Butterfield [Butterfield, Frank W.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2021-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Monterey Ocean Front Cottages

2607 South Atlantic Avenue

Daytona Beach, Fla.

Wednesday, March 24, 1948

A few minutes before 4 in the afternoon

Ronnie parked his car near the office but not by the office. He had no desire to have any chit-chat with Jack Farnsworth, the manager. He climbed out of the car and snuck a quick glance at the office, which appeared to be empty. He quietly closed his door and then made his way over to Tony's cabin.

Looking around to see if anyone was watching, he rapped on the door with the back of his hand and waited.

The door opened a crack. Tony peered out and then stepped back.

Ronnie pushed the door open, slipped in, and quickly closed it. "What's up?" he asked.

Tony, who was only wearing a pair of denim dungarees, plopped down on the unmade bed. He reached over to the bedside table, grabbed a cigarette, and lit it.

"Come on, kid," said Ronnie. "What gives? What's with the rush?"

Tony exhaled with a sigh and looked up at Ronnie. "I have something to confess and I don't want you to get upset."

Taking off his hat, Ronnie sat down in the chair by the table in the little kitchenette and pulled out a cigarette of his own. After lighting it, he crossed his legs. That was when he realized the bathroom door was closed but he could see the light was on. Then it all clicked. He uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, and grinned. "So where was he all this time?"

Tony looked shocked.

That tickled Ronnie to the core.

"How'd you know?"

"I didn't until just now."

Tony took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaled, and said, "Come on out."

The bathroom door opened and, bearing a sheepish smile, Art Phillips stepped out. His face was sunburned, and he needed a haircut, but he was definitely alive. "Hiya, Mr. Grisham." He scratched the back of his neck. "Bet you thought I'd skipped town."

Ronnie just stared at the kid.

"Tell him where you've been," said Tony.

"I was up in Savannah."

Ronnie frowned. "Savannah? Why?"

Shrugging, Art replied, "I guess 'cause Howie'd talked about being up there and how nice it was and he was right." He glanced over at Tony who was smoking and looking at the front door. "Of course, after a few days, I knew I needed to come back."

"A few days? Today's the 24th. You left on the morning of the 15th."

"Actually, I cleared out around half past 11 on the night of the 14th."

"And you drove straight up to Savannah?"

"Nah. I made it as far as Bunnell. Then I drove up to some town just north of Jacksonville that was in Georgia."

"Kingsland?"

"Sounds right."

Ronnie stared at the kid for a long moment. He couldn't decide whether to be angry or not.

"Sorry, Mr. Grisham," said Tony from the bed. "I told Art to hide out here until I could figure out what to do."

That made Ronnie officially angry. He got to his feet and then pointed towards the mainland. "Buddy Kennedy goes on trial for his life tomorrow.

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