The Strangest Anderson (Westside's Saga #2)

One: Deegan Anderson

Two things. One, this diner that I'm standing in front of is one of the reasons my grandfather is dead. Two, my granduncle is the other reason my grandfather is ded. desdl. deed. d e a d.

I rolled my eyes, stabbing at the keyboard.

That psychopath is already in prison, although I doubt it'd be a very long time until he cooks up a plan to escape.

"Alex, will you help me fix the table?" mom said. "Enough of that writing of yours."

I grinned, closing the lid of my laptop.

"Four plates today," mom told me. "We have a special guest for dinner."

I walked to the kitchen and opened the cabinet. "Interesting."

"You'll be pleased to meet him," mom smiled when the bell went off suddenly. "That's him."

"I'll go get it," dad said, putting away the newspaper he was reading.

"Look how big that beard of yours has grown!" I overheard dad say from outside.

"Who's he, mom?" I asked.

Mom grinned, dusting off her blouse. "You'll find out."

I watched as dad came in seconds later with a fairly tall man wearing a hat and a pair of eyeglasses, tall nose, beard, and all. I stood there when suddenly his eyes met mine. His eyes... it was awfully familiar. Have I seen them before? Where? Or was it just déjà vu?

Mom broke the silence. "Alex, this is Deegan Anderson, your granduncle. Deegan this is Alex."

"Pleasure to meet you, Alfonzo," the man said.

I frowned. "Dingus Anderson, the guy who- hold on, my g-granduncle?" I stammered. "Where did he come fro-"

"Alex!" mom interrupted.

"First room on the left on the second floor Deegan," Dad sighed as he ushered the man upstairs. "Go settle down before you come back down for dinner."

"M-my room?" I said in a lower tone. "Seriously? This is what you do you bring in a strange guy out of nowhere and let him sleep in my room."

"The guest room is trashed, Alex. Besides, he is your granduncle," dad said. "The brother of your grandfather. So treat him the way you treated your grandfather Roger."

"No," I whispered. "He isn't my grandfather. That man right there is a very dangerous man."

"Stop being so dramatic!" mom said. "He just got fired and all he needs is a little place to stay for around a month before he figures out his next move."

I lost it. "One whole month? In my room?" I stumbled back, speechless. "I need to go get some fresh air."

"Alex!" mom called again, but I was already outside.

You see- this guy Deegan, he's not really who he claims he is. It's a long story, and that's basically what the novel I'm writing is about. But in simple terms, my grandfather Roger Anderson died in his very own local diner, Crumps, after he was shot by his very own brother. In other words, my granduncle is the one to blame. So I hope you understand... if my parents don't.

"Hey, Megan!" I called once I walked into Crumps. Yeah, that diner I was talking about earlier. "Let me get a beer."

The girl behind the counter smirked, bending down behind the counter. "Now what kind of mind-boggling criminal case needs a bottle of beer today?"

I sighed. "It's more of a... problem."

Megan popped open the bottle and slid it onto the counter, grinning. "Well then, I hope you solve that problem of yours."

"Thanks." I grabbed the bottle, taking a sip as I walked away.

"Let me guess," a voice suddenly said. "That problem of yours... it's cause the one person that killed your grandfather was just murdered and you worry that his ghost might be hunting you now."

I turned my head to see a fairly young man sitting on a chair, cross-legged. "Don't know what you're talking about. Plus I don't believe in ghosts."

"Oh you haven't heard?" the man said. "The killer the people call the 'Dark Goon' was just stabbed in the stomach, and his cellmate escaped. He is one of the prime suspects."

"Expect me to believe that?" I chuckled. "We're about to close, so if you don't mind."

"Detective Steve Miller. You can call me Miller," he said. "I was hired to inspect the cell where the Dark Goon was murdered. The police don't want to spread the news yet. They're afraid the people might panic and the whole town turns upside down."

"Then why are you talking to me? Assuming that what you say is true."

"I need your help," Miller said. "Heard you're the great town smartypants, Alex Anderson, the son of the chief police. Here's the deal, you help me figure out the case. You get revenge on the Goon, and I get to finish my job. If you're good, I just might give you a little extra cash."

I took another sip of my soda and frowned. "No thanks, I've got my own problems to deal with. Now some of us here would really like to go home, so get out."

Miller slowly stood up. "Here's my card in case you change your mind." He handed me a card. I reluctantly took it, sighing as I watched the man take his time to walk out.

***

I sat up on my bed, staring at the man lying down on the mattress next to me. I couldn't sleep, not even close my eyes. Not that I blame myself. A killer is sleeping next to me. So a whole month like this? C'mon, give me a break.

I reached out and took the card from the side table. Detective Steve Miller, private eye at your service, I read. I grabbed my phone and quickly searched 'Detective Steve Miller', scrolling down on the search results.

Detective Steve Jimmy Miller is one of the top detectives on Glenn Island. Born and raised in Glenn City, Steve found his passion for cracking cases when he was twelve, I read.

I laid my eyes on Deegan and sighed. So tell me, what's scarier... partnering with a random private eye or sleeping with a suspect murderer in one room? I frowned, dialing the number written on the card on my phone.

"Steve Miller here. Leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP," the auto-message went.

I sighed. "Hey, Miller. It's me from the diner earlier. I'ma..." I ran my fingers through my hair, "I'll give it a shot. Just because I'm stuck right now in one room with one of the prime suspects."