Wolfheart

by Hallie Lee

  “Well, for example,” Aunt Robin posed. “In your mind, how would incorporation better help you do your job?”

  “Well…uh…I think a government closer to the people would be more responsive to their needs. Like say, more deputies. And a fire department.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Aunt Robin pivoted. “Don’t you think, Luke?”

  “Yeah. I never considered that. That’s smart.” I forced some introspection into my voice. “That would mean more local jobs as well.”

  “Right, and if I’m not mistaken,” the Sheriff went on, “that would give local folks more control over things like zoning.”

  “Sure,” I agreed. “And if everyone felt like they had a voice, that would improve the community’s identity.”

  Aunt Robin smiled sweetly at both of us. “Brilliant. And I’d love to help any way I can.”

  “Yeah, me too,” the sheriff beamed. “Just tell me what to do.”

  Aunt Robin placed her hands on my shoulders. “I think we’re lucky to have this energetic and idealistic young generation leading the way, and I have no doubt that Luke will be the perfect person to spearhead this project. Along with your help, of course, Ricky.”

  Bella, who up until then had been quiet, spoke up. “I agree. And anything that gets the Creek People involved is a positive. That goes to Luke’s point about community identity.” She nudged me, “I think he’s totally up for the job. He’s the smartest person I know.”

  “Yeah,” the sheriff eyed me slowly. “The kid’s just great.”

  “Perfect,” Aunt Robin said. “It’s all settled then.” She turned to Sheriff Rick, “Now, why don’t you pour me some wine, and let’s go join the other old folks?”

  Bella and I watched as they headed onto the patio. “Nicely done,” she said.

  “Team effort,” I grinned.

  Chapter Eight

  Turnip Truck

  Sheriff Rick

  S

  eeing as how I didn’t get off the turnip truck yesterday, I knew full well I’d been hoodwinked. But the sight of Robin all doe-eyed, gazing up at me, asking for my opinion, for my assistance—

  Dang straight, I’d help the kid. Incorporation had its good points, after all.

  Of course, it wouldn’t be easy with some of the hardliners around town, not to mention the Creek People’s mistrust of authority, and their paranoia about signing anything. It would be an uphill battle, but for Robin, I’d tout the benefits from here to Osprey Lake.

  When Robin and I joined everyone on Lenny’s fancy patio, he, Bubba, and Daryl looked sheepish. “Nice haircut,” Daryl chuckled. “Reminds me, I need to go see Dolly and get my ears lowered.”

  I ignored him, focusing instead on the crazy, twinkling lights Desi had strung along the wooden beams, rather than the number of eyeballs bouncing off me like BBs. Especially from Robin’s kids, who could be a little intimidating with their college education and culture and such.

  “Hi Sheriff.” Young Sterling offered a handshake. “Nice to see you.” Polite kid. Although he looked nothing like his twin sister, Violet, who was taller than him by a couple inches. She reminded me a lot of her Daddy, which meant she was tall, unassuming, and by all accounts, smart as a whip. You could just tell there were things going on inside her head that were way above your paygrade, despite the humble way she carried herself, like she didn’t want to be noticed.

  Truth be told, I missed Dean. He was the nicest millionaire I ever met. Only one I ever met, come to think on it.

  Out of the corner of my eye I felt an energetic force close in on me, dead set on tagging me in some nonsensical behavior.

  “Sheriff Rick,” Petey enveloped me in an over-the-top bear hug. “Man, you look more and more like Sam Elliott every time I see you. That mustache, man. It’s legendary.”

  Max disagreed. “No way. I see Magnum, P.I.”

  While I scoffed at the both of them, Robin seemed to perk up. Was it my imagination, or did she just size me up? Give me a second look? Just in case, I took the opportunity to smooth my fingers along my newly trimmed mustache. “How was Kentucky?” I asked Petey.

  “It was the best. The horses were noble. The bluegrass was—”

  “Green,” quipped Violet.

  “Oh come on, Jade, give me a break,” teased Petey, making fun of her colorful name.

  “How was the bourbon?” asked Bubba. “That’s the most important thing.”

  “Now y’all know,” Petey said with one of his slow, deliberate grins—the kind that made you grin back whether you wanted to or not— “I spent most of my time in church. Right, Aunt Robin?”

  “That’s true. Petey is Timothy’s new buddy.”

  Thoroughly impressed, everyone drifted into a conversation about the current online series. “Aw yeah, man,” Bubba bobbed his head. “Did y’all see last Sunday’s service? Couldn’t get it out of my head all week.”

  “A shame it didn’t do you any good,” Quietdove teased.

  Timothy was the pastor at North Lake, a mega church in Lexington, and everybody and their brother talked about him like they knew him personally. I reckon in a way they did since half of Shady Gully watched him preach online. Another reason Jesse’s and James’s congregation numbers were dwindling.

  After an overflowing buffet of hamburgers, hot dogs, dirty rice, and boudin, the younger ones gravitated inside, so they could be closer to the TV, their devices, and Sterling’s music equipment.

  The rest of us huddled around Lenny’s firepit.

  “It’s so hot and humid,” Desi rubbed her hands over the fire.

  “And yet,” Robin said contemplatively, “we always seem drawn to a bonfire, don’t we?”

  “That’s ’cause it reminds us of Cicada Stadium.” Bubba scraped his fork along the bottom of his cake plate, licking it. “Back when we were young.” He tossed it onto the flame. “You know, the good old days?”

  “Not so good,” Desi said, glancing at Lenny. “Not always, anyway.”

  We grew quiet, undoubtedly lost in our own personal recollections and experiences at the old, abandoned ballpark. Located off the beaten path of a dirt road, for years Cicada Stadium had served as a venue for young people to express their independence.

  “A whole new generation of rebels now,” Max poked the fire.

  “A whole new slew of regrets as well.” Robin’s tone, pensive in nature, evoked a long, awkward pause in the conversation. Desi and Lenny looked particularly uncomfortable.

  I knew why. I’d been a part, albeit a small part, of the ill-fated reunion party that resulted in a five-year hiatus in Desi and Robin’s friendship. Hard to imagine now that anything could come between them, but at the time, they were younger, and more susceptible to suspicion and jealousy.

  Fortunately, the chinwag had faded over the years, mostly because Desi and Robin made it clear that they were, and always would be, a force to be reckoned with, but also because Dean’s death discouraged any stray threads of malicious gossip.

  These days, the only scandal in Shady Gully that raised hackles and heated opinions centered around Dolly and her disgraced husband, Mitch. Probably because of the sordid nature, but also because justice had never been done.

  “We still round up kids at Cicada every now and again.” Max finally broke the silence. “Just to let ’em know we’re aware of what’s going on.” He put his arm around his wife, Danielle. “Most of it’s harmless anyway. Isn’t that where we got together, babe?”

  Everyone chuckled, breaking the chill in the air.

  “Dang, y’all talk like we’re eligible for AARP or something,” Bubba complained. “Ain’t none of us fifty yet. I still got time to find me a woman.”

  “You better lay off Charlie Wayne’s burgers then,” Daryl said. “And Desi’s cake.”

  “Come on, Rick,” Bubba begged
. “Don’t let ’em rag on me like that. You’re in the same boat as me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  I glinted at him in a way that discouraged any further gum slapping.

  “Just saying.” He put his hands in his pockets.

  Actually, I didn’t know what he was talking about. While I’d had my share of doomed relationships, I’d never walked down the aisle, nor had my name been recorded multiple times in divorce court. Bubba’s history with women was so bad that the wedding planner at the Shady Gully Sacred Heart Catholic Church, as well as both Jesse’s and James’s churches, knew Bubba’s flower of choice, and his tuxedo size. Furthermore, the family court judge in Belle Maison knew Bubba’s real first name, which was still a mystery to all of us.

  My situation was nothing like that.

  “We got the blood results back today,” Max, thankfully, redirected the conversation to an area I was more comfortable. “I left them on your desk.”

  “From Peony’s case?” asked Desi. “What’s the deal?”

  My eyes flitted among the old friends around the fire, landing on Desi. “Probably not something we should discuss here.”

  “Oh, that’s nonsense. Tell us.” She was a bossy thing. How did Lenny live with her? But when I gave him a look he smiled. Very happily, obviously.

  Max said, “The blood all over the rear exit of the house was Madhawk’s, but it’s wonky.”

  “Wonky?” I squinted at him. “Did CODIS find a match or not?”

  “Yeah,” Max nodded. “He’s in the system, so sure, but there was other blood. A few droplets, a little splatter, and it doesn’t match Madhawk’s.”

  “Was it Wolfheart’s? He’s in the system too.”

  “Nope. Not his either. The lab had to send it off for more testing.”

  “Terrific,” I muttered.

  “At least we know Madhawk is involved.” Lenny brought a couple of lawn chairs over to the firepit, and passed them around. “The question is, where is he?”

  I opened a chair for Robin. “I don’t see how he could be alive.” Placed mine next to hers. “Not after losing that much blood.”

  Max agreed. “Quietdove thinks he wandered off to one of those revered sites and died.”

  “Well, good riddance then.” Robin pushed her glasses higher up her nose. “He was a horrible person. And Peony never hurt a fly. I don’t know why she put up with him so long.”

  “I agree,” Desi chimed. “Everybody knows he killed her—”

  “Desi, you don’t know that for sure,” Max argued.

  “I know it. Trust me.”

  I frowned. “How? Did Wolfheart tell you something?” When she didn’t answer, I brooded. “That’s the problem, nobody is talking. Meadow’s too traumatized.” I raised my chin toward the sliding glass doors where the young ones lounged on the living room furniture. “And Bella, well, I hate to press her too hard. She’s so young.”

  “She’s twenty-three,” Max said.

  “The same age as Micah.” Lenny eye-balled him. “What’s your point?”

  “I just think Bella is tougher than y’all think. And Micah,” Max grinned. “If this had been her, you couldn’t get her to stop talking.”

  Everyone chuckled, glancing toward the lights inside.

  “For what it’s worth,” Daryl said. “I think Madhawk did it.”

  I sighed. “I’m inclined to agree, Daryl, but you can’t, or I can’t, ignore the fact that somebody killed—or may have killed—Madhawk. And my job, like it or not, is to find out who did, and what happened that night. And I’d rather get the story from Wolfheart than have to hound Meadow and Bella.”

  “So, what happens to Wolfheart if he beat up—or killed—Madhawk?” asked Bubba. “I mean, considering Madhawk just killed his sister and all? It doesn’t seem fair—”

  “We’re getting way ahead of ourselves. We don’t know…what we don’t know. And we shouldn’t be talking about all this anyway.” I berated myself, wondering if I’d expounded for Robin’s benefit.

  After a lengthy lull, I said conclusively, “Anyway, we’re going to expand the search this week. I’ve got a state team coming in with dogs and Quietdove is gonna lead us to some of those special places along the creek. So hopefully, we can get this resolved soon.”

  “I hope y’all find him dead,” Desi said.

  “Desi—” Lenny placed his hand on her knee.

  “If you see Wolfheart, Desi, you should encourage him to come in Monday like he promised. And to bring something of Madhawk’s for the dogs to get a scent. If he doesn’t, and you can relay this message to him, I will arrest him.”

  “Would you really do that?” asked Robin, who had been quiet for a while. “Arrest him?”

  I faltered for a moment, as her soulful eyes landed on me. But on this I was firm. “I would. I won’t have those state guys thinking my judgment is skewed because it’s my hometown. And it just wouldn’t be right, for anybody. Can you understand?”

  Finally, she nodded. “I do.”

  “Well,” Daryl yawned, folding his chair. “I’m gonna head to the house. If you need help solving the crime, Sheriff, holler at me. I’m sure my boss would let me off for a few days.”

  Bubba followed suit. “Yep, me too. I gotta get up early and watch Timothy online.”

  Max made a face. “Please stop. I don’t want nightmares of you in your bathrobe, eating Cheerios and taking communion.”

  “It’s Cap’n Crunch, just so you know.”

  Max gave Robin a long, heartfelt hug. “When y’all get settled at Osprey Lake, Ernie’s gonna load the family up, and come down for a big cook out.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said. “I can’t wait to see him.”

  Ernie, the middle sibling between Robin and Max, lived and worked in Belle Maison, and from what I could glean, made a good living selling real estate in the area. However, I got the feeling Robin’s relationship with Ernie wasn’t as relaxed as it was with Max.

  Robin remained in her lawn chair when Desi and Lenny rose to walk everyone out, so I kept myself planted as well. “When do y’all plan to head out to Osprey?” I asked, offering her a taffy, which she declined.

  “Maybe in a few days.”

  “Well, let me know. I could take a ride, have a look around. I don’t want to sound like an alarmist, but we’ve got a fugitive out there somewhere.”

  She rubbed her hands over the dying embers of the fire. “It doesn’t sound like Madhawk could make it that far, if he’s as bad off as you think.”

  “You never know. Anger, fear, and adrenaline are big motivators.”

  The lights on the porch flickered, and then went dark, which illuminated the glow in the living room. It looked like Lenny and Desi were saying goodnight to the kids. Robin and I turned our attention to the fire, enjoying a comfortable silence. Until we didn’t.

  “How ya doing, Robin? Really?”

  “I’m good, Ricky. “She smiled a little. “Oh wait, you don’t like being called that anymore.”

  “Naw, it doesn’t bother me. I just like to give everybody a hard time.” She kept her gaze on the fire. “And the kids? They doing okay?”

  “I think so. Sterling graduated from the University of Kentucky and seems happy on the creative team at North Lake. Maybe he’s got bigger ambitions, but I don’t know.”

  “And Violet?” I caught myself before adding how much she looked like Dean.

  “Working on her masters. Loves animals. Loves science. My brilliant child. I never really know if she’s okay though. It’s been five years since Dean died, and she won’t talk to me.”

  She seemed to drift off into her own thoughts then. She picked up the poker, tried to jab the fire back to life. When I reached for it to help, my hand brushed against hers, and she quickly relinquished the poker.

 
“I think she’s fine. I think…I think Dean would be real proud of the way you’ve raised them. At how well adjusted they are.” It had to be said. It was the truth, and maybe she needed to hear it.

  “Do you remember that night?” she asked suddenly. “The night of the reunion at Cicada Stadium?”

  “Yeah.” I turned my attention to the fire. Gave it a few rousing pokes.

  “I was home with the twins. They were toddlers and Violet had an ear infection.” She looked at me. I focused on the fire. I didn’t like where this was going. “Desi told me you took them back to her place. Remember? Lenny was offshore?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  “I know you didn’t go in with them, but—”

  “Robin.”

  “What? I’ve always wanted to ask you about it, but it seemed awkward. Unseemly.”

  I let out a long, beleaguered sigh.

  “It’s okay,” she shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Robin, they weren’t their best selves that night. Heck, Wolfheart gave Dean pot. Think about it. Dean couldn’t even drink a beer without getting tipsy.”

  She tried a grin, but it fell flat on her sad face. A wave of panic swept through me as she swatted at a tear. How had this conversation gone so wrong?

  “Desi was drunk, and Dean was—just all over the place.” I scrambled, desperate to say the right thing. “It was late, and I made sure they got home okay.”

  “He was supposed to be staying at his parents’ house.”

  “Yeah well, I wasn’t dropping him off like that. I don’t care how old you are or how much money you make, you don’t walk into your mom’s house stoned.” I nudged her a little, hoping to get a laugh.

  She softened. “I know. It’s okay.”

  “He talked about you all the way home. How much he loved you. How much he loved his life. The twins.”

  “Stop it, Ricky. Rick.” She gave me a hard look. I could tell she didn’t believe me.

  “You should ask Wolfheart. Dean said all the same stuff to him that night. Showed him pictures of the kids and everything. What does that tell you?” She said nothing. “It tells me you and the kids were on his mind.” I poked some more at the fire, but I feared the flames wouldn’t last much longer. “Besides, they were both too wasted to be romantic. Trust me.”