Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) Read Free Page A

you didn’t get a look at the other guys?”
    “Luke might know something about cheating, too,” I said. “The subject makes him a tad uncomfortable. The grapevine says he has many admirers. They are called badge bunnies and they call him Luquified—”
    “That’s enough,” snapped Luke. “What about the other guys?”
    “Naw, they kept their ski masks on,” said Tyrone. “This guy was the only one who pulled his off.”
    “Ski masks,” I said. “A hold up? In Forks County?”
    “I tell you what,” said Tyrone. “I’d never been so scared in my life. Thought I’d fall off my pole. I didn’t move until long after they’d gone.”
    “Poor Tyrone,” said Luke. “So scared he didn’t even get to collect his wire.”
    “I thought the driver was dead,” said Tyrone. “These guys were pretty bad-ass.”
    Luke pushed out of his chair and moved behind me. “This is a good likeness.”
    “Thank you,” said Tyrone, as if he had sketched it himself.
    The door unlocked and Uncle Will strolled in to stand over the drawing. “Very good,” he said. “Let’s take this and scan it into the system.”
    “Yes, sir.” Luke bent over me to tear the paper from its perforated edge.
    I sat beneath the cage of his arms and tried not to breathe in that specific Luke blend of pheromones and aftershave. That particular concoction can prove deadly to the female libido and I didn’t want my libido getting any funny ideas. My libido had already done that dance and lost.
    “By the way, Cherry,” Luke slid the whisper past my ear as he righted himself. “You might wear a bra next time you visit the sheriff’s department.”
    I crossed my arms and felt my cheeks hit every shade of pink from ruby lake to vermilion extra.
    “You done good, girl,” said Uncle Will. “I’ll cut you a check for your time and service. Tyrone, you sit tight.”
    Tyrone blew out a sigh and laid his forehead on the table.
    The three of us ambled out of the room, the sketch now in Uncle Will’s hand. He studied it before holding up the copy to Luke.
    “I’m going to make some calls,” said Will. “Someone in Atlanta might recognize him. Every county with an interstate running through it gets an occasional hijack. Guess it was our turn to get lucky.”
    “Yes, sir,” said Luke.
    I held my breath, knowing that anything exiting my lips could blow any chance of hearing something interesting.
    “I know that look. You’re not getting any classified information from us.” Uncle Will leaned to pop a kiss on my forehead. “Go get you some sleep, sugar. Are you going to have trouble staying awake on the way home?”
    “I’ll be all right,” I said, yawning. “Maybe I’ll get some breakfast. It’s close to five, isn’t it?”
    “You go with her,” Uncle Will nodded to Luke. “Don’t want to hear that broken-down truck left her in a ditch. Might as well swing by the Waffle House on the interstate and see if they recognize this mug.”
    “I could go for a pecan waffle,” I said. My stomach woke from its slumber and made a noise similar to a Harley with an engine knock. “Maybe some grits and bacon, too. And more coffee.”
    “I’m sure the sheriff wants me to take you home first,” said Luke, barely masking his impatience.
    “The least we can do is treat her to a pecan waffle. While she’s eating you can ask a few questions.” Will fished a ten out of his wallet and handed it to Luke. “Son, where’s your manners? I pulled Cherry out of bed to do this.”
    “Yes sir,” muttered Luke, “but whose bed did you pull her out of?”
     

Two

    At the Waffle House, Luke ordered his regular artery clogger and slipped out of the booth to talk to the waitress hovering near the cashier stand. My early excitement had fizzled and I now felt tired and drained. I watched as Luke, holding out a copy of my sketch, strolled to the few customers sitting at the counter. Heads shook. At the last seat, a cadaverous, partially toothed man