Dumping Grounds (Joshua Stokes Mysteries Book 1) (9 page)

15

The Ala-Miss Club

It was about 9 pm when Joshua arrived at the Ala-Miss Club. The parking lot was overflowing with pickup trucks and motorcycles. You would think the two did not mix well, but the Ala-Miss was an exception.

Most of the bikers frequenting the club were good ol’ boys, wannabe’s, admirers of the free spirited lifestyle of actual bikers from movie lore.

Occasionally a true Vagos, Banditos, or Free Soul would come by and every once in a while, the Casey boys from Moffettville, who belonged to the Hells Angles Motorcycle Club of California, blew through on their way to see their folks.

When Joshua entered the Ala-Miss Club, it was dimly lit, reeked of cigarette smoke, beer, perfume and sweat. It did not take long for his eyes to adjust to the lighting.

The band was tuning up, the crowd anxious.

Music was the one thing they all had in common. Women liked to flirt, dance, and dream of popularity with the band. They also hoped to snag `em a good one that would take care of them. The men were there so they could get drunk, watch the women dance, and hope for a quickie in the parking lot before they went home to their wives.

Joshua paid the cover charge, got his hand stamped with the club’s emblem, and then grabbed a beer from the bar. He then headed for the darkest corner of the club where he propped his elbows on the top rail, and a booted foot on the bottom rail of a stationary wooden fence section, then gave the place a good once over.

As he took a swallow of his beer, the emblem on his hand caught his attention. It was something a few of the larger clubs had started doing when they began charging admission. His focus switched to the doorman. He watched him a few minutes and noticed that he was stamping men on the back of their hands and women, underneath their wrists. He wondered if any of the dead women had similar markings…

It was something he would have to mention to John Metcalf and the coroner. He did not know if Metcalf or the coroner knew of the stamps and to be honest, he had not even looked at the hands of the dead women other than their fingernails to see if they were broken or bloodied. He figured it was the coroner’s job to examine the entire body.

Three corners of the club were raised platforms that could be used for special occasions or as extra bandstands if need be.

There were about six saddled sawhorses spread around the large open area as well as several that hung from lodge poles that stretched across the ceiling.

The younger women vied for a chance to ride the hanging saddles; they wanted to be the center of attention.

From floor to ceiling and corner to corner, Joshua’s eyes addressed every detail of the establishment.

A 1943 Harley Flathead sat atop a pedestal on the platform behind where Joshua stood. It was roped off in an attempt to keep the drunks off it.

Two young women in matching, purple, velvety looking shorts, known as hot pants, were currently the center of attention as they climbed aboard the saddles.

They wore white go-go boots and matching purple tops too. Joshua heard someone say, “Hey look, it’s the Bobbsy Twins.” It took a moment before Joshua realized exactly who they were. It was Snake’um Howle’s daughter Joy and that young Cox girl.

Although they may have looked older than they were, they were nowhere near old enough to be in the club. However, he had no authority at the Ala-Miss. It was in Jackson County Mississippi’s district, and under their jurisdiction, therefore he had to refrain from wanting to take the girls out of there and drag the owner to jail.

He could report it to the Jackson County District Attorney, but he had his suspicions they probably already knew that someone who worked there was allowing the underage girls into the club.

Joshua’s gaze fell back to the doorman. The doorman just climbed higher on his suspect list.

He knew this sort of thing happened in his county too, but had not caught any of them in the act. He would have closed them down quick and they knew it.

Most of the local clubs knew he did not make a habit of harassing them, unless their clientele were causing problems. Moreover, most of them used bouncers to control those, who had had too much to drink.

Joshua had long suspected the Dixie Mafia had their fingers in the pie that constructed the Ala-Miss Club.

He knew of several lawyers, judges, and even a mayor or two around Biloxi, Gulf Port, and Ocean Springs, that were closely associated with the mafia. They had been trying to get gambling legalized since the early sixties.

It seemed they wanted to turn the scenic Gulf Coast into a Southern version of Las Vegas. He knew it would happen one day, but hoped it was well after he retired.

Folks already looked down on the South. Some called it the Dirty South, because most of the country thought of its inhabitants as backwards and inbred.

Hollywood had long made money, portraying Southerners as dumb, ill mannered, racist hicks, Little Abner and Daisy Mae’s.

Many had gone to the picture show and watched Walking Tall. They thought the entire South was like McNairy County, Tennessee, and that most sheriffs were like Buford Pusser with his Justice Stick.

Joshua knew there were many towns and cities, exactly like those portrayed on TV, but not all of the places in the South was like that, and not all of those places were in the South.It angered him to think about it.

Watching the young girls make themselves the focus of everyone’s attention, also made Joshua angry, especially knowing how many things can go wrong when teenagers put themselves into situations that are not easily dealt with, even as adults.

He would bide his time and figure out what to do about the girls, meanwhile he was on the lookout for anyone who might be paying a little closer attention to them or the other women than need be.

He still had a killer or killers on his hands to catch. A situation that was not going to resolve it’s self. At least not from what he figured.

From the corner where he stood, Joshua had a 360-degree view of the club and could see every inch of the establishment. His searching eyes soon alit on a familiar face. It was Tom Stringer.

Tom sat at a table across the room to Joshua’s left. At the table with him sat Gypsy Jones and Kathy Powell.

Gypsy was dressed in her usual skintight pantsuit and heels, her hair piled high on her head; Kathy was less flamboyant. Kathy was neatly dressed in jeans and a frilly, lace sleeved blouse and flats.

Joshua knew Kathy and Tom were cousins and figured they had just run up on each other at the club, but even from where he stood, Joshua could see that Gypsy was trying to put her moves onto Tom.

Watch out Tommy boy, she will have her claws into you next, Stokes thought as he observed Mazy’s hand slide over Tom’s thigh to his crotch.

Joshua knew he should leave before they saw him, but as he watched man after man go and ask Kathy to dance and she refuse them, his curiosity about her grew.

Was she so faithful to her institutionalized husband that she would not dance with another man? He did not think so or she would be home, not at the club. He thought maybe the right one had not asked her yet.

Gypsy had all of her attention on Tom. They were deep into conversation and never even looked up at the men who were asking Kathy to dance.

Joshua took a deep breath, walked over to the table, and then tapped Kathy on the shoulder. She turned and he could tell she was prepared to say no and then he saw the recognition in her eyes; she smiled politely, stood up and took his offered hand.

Joshua swept Kathy around the dance floor several times and then into the darkness of the corner where he had stood earlier, watching the goings on in the club.

He did not want to stay on the dance floor long enough to draw the attention of Tom and Gypsy, nor anyone else for that matter.

Even though they had only danced a short while, Kathy seemed out of breath.

“Are you all right?” Joshua asked concernedly.

“Yes, I’m fine. I have not moved that fast in a long time.I am not complaining though, I can certainly use the exercise. I just need to catch my breath.”

“Good, I know it may seem odd, but I did not really want to be tied up talking to Tom and Mazy; I just wanted to be with you.” Joshua said the last so quietly that Kathy had to strain to hear him. She smiled and said, “Well then, let’s get out of here and go some place that’s quieter.”

That was all it took for Joshua to take her hand once more and lead her outside to his truck. Once inside his truck, Kathy remained on the passenger side.

Joshua wished she would slide closer to him, but at least she was there, and that was what he wanted. For now, companionship was what he was seeking; sex was the last thing on his mind.

“I was surprised to see you down here, Sheriff. I have been here many times with Gypsy and I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“No, I reckon not. I don’t usually frequent the clubs. There is a case I’m working on. We think the perpetrator is a trucker or someone who frequents the nightclubs or other establishments in this area. I called myself coming down here to investigate the club and the patrons.”

“That sounds scary. What kind of case is it?”

“Murder, actually multiple murders, but please don’t repeat what I am telling you,” Joshua said, quickly realizing that he should not have said anything at all about the case, but he wanted to warn her lest she turn up as a victim.

“Oh, I won’t say anything, but I wish y’all would tell us women when something like this is going on. At least then, we could be more careful about who we get up and dance with or go out with.

I’m usually particular who I dance with anyway, but some of those young girls that come in there will go off with anyone!”

Kathy’s words automatically reminded him that the “Bobbsy Twins” were still in the club. He hoped nothing bad happened to them, but he was sure this was not their first time out clubbing and at least they were together. That was safer than being alone.

Since she had been in the club, Joshua thought maybe Kathy was in a drinking mood, but when he asked if she wanted him to get her a beer or mixed drink, Kathy declined. She said she would rather have a cup of coffee.

“Mazy and I usually go to the new truck stop and get us a cup of coffee and something to eat when we leave the club,” Kathy informed him, therefore he assumed she wanted to go there.

Joshua was not hungry because he had eaten supper earlier, but if she wanted to go to the truck stop, that was fine with him. Going would accomplish two things. He could observe the truck drivers and do a little investigating while he was there, and he would be spending some quality time with Kathy.

The truck stop, located back across the state line in the Bayou of Grand Bay was relatively new. It was built the first year they began work on the interstate highway.

Its location where the new I-10 interstate intersected with Newman Road accomplished what the company set out to do, which was to manipulate drivers into the shiny new, clean, filler-upper. And the local folks would gladly travel the two-mile distance off the older Highway 90 to get to the new truck stop, where they could fill up both their gas tanks and their stomachs.

It was an all in one stop. You could buy everything from an antenna and a CB radio to oil, tires, and gasoline. Also, it had a restaurant, showers, even a small laundry mat for the travelers to wash clothes.

This new one stop shopping set up took business away from the town of Grand Bay. Its older service stations, diners, and car washes were outdated, as was every other service offered in the small town.

It also drew in many that traveled Highway 188 on their way to Bayou La Batre and Dauphin Island, Alabama; not to forget those traveling to Mobile, and those headed to Pascagoula and beyond, in Mississippi.

Joshua and Kathy entered through the restaurant section of the truck stop; it was nearly empty of patrons. Someone stood at the jukebox, dropping dimes into the slot and there was a couple seated in a booth across the room. Kathy headed straight to a booth in the back corner of the room, Joshua followed.

As soon as they sat down, the sound of country music filled the room. It was at a level that was tolerable and nowhere near as loud as what was playing at the club.

At least, they would not have to holler at each other to be heard above the din.

Once seated and facing each other, a quiet nervousness overcome each of them.

It seemed they were at a loss for words.

“Well, I’ll just be da’yumned! Look at what the cat done drug up in here,” exclaimed the waitress walking toward their booth. “Look at you two all gussied up!”

“Hey Pearl, I did not know you were working here,” Kathy said shyly.

Joshua turned to see Pearl Stringer Carr walking toward them with two glasses of water, which she sat on the table in front of them. Pearl stood staring at them for a moment, before responding to Kathy’s statement.

“Yeah, I have been working here for a couple of months or so. My old man ran off with some green-eyed Cajun woman from Louisiana, but I reckon you done heard all about that. Word spreads quick, especially between Mama and her sisters, so I know Aunt Fay already knowed about it.”