“Sí.”
Tyson clicked the phone dead. Soon, he thought, echoing what he’d told the billboard lawyer. Very soon . . .
31
By 8:00 p.m., all Jason wanted to do was go to sleep, but alas, the night was young. He still needed to meet Kisha at the Rock House. If there was a chance in hell that his sister might be innocent of hiring Waylon Pike to kill her husband, he needed additional information. All his conversations with Burns and Jana had revealed were a whole lot of reasons to think she was guilty.
As he drove down Blount Avenue and hung a left on Loveless, he saw a smattering of cars parked along the street adjacent to Gunter Avenue ahead. Though it took several minutes, Jason finally found a parking spot and ambled up the sidewalk toward the quaint restaurant, which had several couples and families eating outside on the patio on wrought iron chairs and tables. He stepped inside and saw Kisha waiting on him. She waved and he headed toward her, taking in the Rock House. He’d eaten here a couple times before with Jana and Braxton. The food was excellent, and the vibe was simultaneously rustic and modern. There were two dining rooms separated by a wall and then a narrow hallway that contained the cozy four-seater bar. Jason took a seat next to his former classmate at the bar and saw that another woman was seated next to Kisha.
“This is my wife, Teresa Roe,” she said. Jason nodded at the other woman, who was taller than his old friend, with long, straight black hair.
“Nice to meet you,” Jason said, trying not to be surprised by the revelation that his old friend was gay.
Seeming to sense his thoughts, Kisha smiled big. “I came out a couple years after college. We met at the mullet toss down at the Flora-Bama. You ever been to that?”
Jason nodded, not really thinking about the famous festival held every May at the beachside saloon but instead dwelling on the untouched Corona bottle that he’d left sitting at the table after taking Jana’s call. He found himself wondering what happened to it. Did the waitress with the Auburn cap throw it away? Put it back in the fridge to be enjoyed by another patron? He took in a deep breath, realizing that his visit to the Flora-Bama was just over thirty hours ago.
“Earth to Jason.” Kisha interrupted his reverie.
“The mullet toss,” he managed. “How romantic.”
They all laughed, and Kisha described her meetup with Teresa at the bar of the Flora-Bama. They’d both been there with friends and ended up avoiding the iconic tossing of the fish and taking a long walk on the beach, “where one thing led to another.” They were married six months later.
“I’m happy for y’all,” Jason said. When the waiter, a nice woman named Susan, asked for their drink orders, Kisha ordered a cosmopolitan, Teresa a martini, and Jason a club soda with lime.
“Not partaking of the spirits tonight?” Kisha asked with a tease in her voice.
“No,” Jason said. He thought about mentioning rehab but changed his mind. Kisha was a reporter after all, and it wasn’t the best of ideas to be a complete open book to the press.
“So have you decided whether you’re going to take Jana’s case?” Kisha asked, the tease in her tone gone.
“Not yet. I was kinda hoping that my old high school friend might fill me in on what she knows.” Jason chortled. “Go Raiders,” he said, mimicking the cheer for Randolph High.
Kisha shared a brief glance with Teresa and then peered at Jason. “Well, I know that the sheriff’s office has arrested Waylon Pike, a handyman who did odd jobs for your sister and some others on Buck Island. And I know Pike confessed that Jana paid him to kill Dr. Waters.”
“I’ve heard that as well,” Jason said. “Was there some sort of announcement?”
“Press conference couple days ago. Right after Jana was arrested.”
Great, he thought. The whole county knows.
“I’ve also heard that Jana took out a lot of money either the day before or two days before the murder,” Kisha continued.
“How much?” Jason obviously knew the answer but was curious if the amount had become public.
“Fifteen thousand dollars,” Teresa added, leaning forward to make eye contact with Jason. “I’m a bartender at the Brick downtown, and that’s the scuttlebutt around the bar.”
Great, Jason thought again. He twisted in his chair so that he could face them. “Have either of you heard anything that might suggest that my sister didn’t do it?”
Kisha winced and glanced at Teresa, who shook her head. “I’m sorry,” Kisha said.