Slow Dollar Read Online Free PDF Page B

instructions, though. I needed to lay down a carpet of quarters at the back center so that when the blade pushed them forward, they in turn would push that front pile of quarters over the edge and into my cup.
    Unfortunately, I was out of quarters.
    I fished a couple of dollars out of my pocket and called, “Change, please.”
    There was no response from the well behind the boxes. I stood on tiptoes to catch the eye of the person who should have been standing ready to make change or redeem the poker chips for prizes.
    “Excuse me,” I called again. “I need some change down here.”
    “Good luck,” growled a black man a few spaces away. “I don’t think nobody’s working this place.”
    “We’ve not seen anybody anyhow,” said the woman with him.
    Across the way, strobe lights suddenly flashed and a siren wailed as someone won at the Bowler Roller stand. A guy there was high-fiving his friend, and everyone in eyesight turned to watch till the lights and siren turned themselves off.
    “I’ve got quarters,” Reid called from the woman’s far side. The others were around on the other side of the setup.
    “That’s okay,” I told him. There were two steps leading up into the wagon and the wooden flap that led to the dim interior was unhooked. I put my foot on the bottom step, pulled back the flap, and stuck my head in. “Anybody he—”
    The words died in my throat.
    A white man lay crumpled on the wooden floor. Blood clotted his nose and had oozed down the side of his face. His eyes were open and unblinking.
    His mouth was open, too, but it had been stuffed to overflowing with bloody quarters.

CHAPTER 3

FRIDAY NIGHT (CONTINUED)
    I backed out quickly and bumped into Dwight, who was holding dollar bills in his own hand.
    He grabbed my arm to steady me, took one look at my face, and said, “What’s wrong, shug?”
    I swallowed and pointed to the space behind me.
    He squeezed through the narrow opening, then immediately stepped back out and reached for the phone clipped to his belt to call for backup.
    As Reid came over to see what was going on, Tally Ames darted out of the midway crowd with a frown on her face.
    “Hey,” she called. “No customers in the hole, okay?”
    Her eyes ran across the top of the game as if expecting a head to pop up from behind the glass boxes with their endlessly moving blades. “Braz!”
    With an exasperated sigh, she said, “I swear I’m gonna kill him, sneaking off again and leaving the store to run itself. Here, y’all need change? I’ll get it for you.”
    She tried to move past Dwight, but he held his ground in front of the opening. “Sorry, ma’am.” To Reid, he said, “I saw a couple of town officers around here earlier. Run see if you can find them.”
    While my cousin for once went off to do as he was told without asking why, Tally protested. “Officers? Hey, wait a minute, Mister. You got a problem with Braz or this store, you talk to me, okay? I’m the owner. And if I can’t fix it, I’m sure our patch—”
    “Wassup, Tail?” asked a man who was working the duck pond next door, an idle pond now since all his little customers seemed to have gone home to bed.
    She turned to him gratefully. “Is Dennis still on the lot, Skee?”
    “Yeah, I saw him up at the gate a few minutes ago. Want me to get him?”
    “Would you? And if you see Braz, tell him to get his tail back here right now, or he can just keep on going, okay?”
    She swung back to me and said, “Look, Judge, can’t you tell your friend here—”
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ames.” I was almost positive that it was her older, missing son who lay just beyond the hinged flap, and even though Dwight was shaking his head at me, I couldn’t not start preparing her for the worst. “There’s been an accident. And this is Dwight Bryant of the Colleton County Sheriff’s Department.”
    “Accident? Sheriff’s department?” She glared at us suspiciously. “What sort of accident?”
    The African