Secret Sacrifices

by Jannifer Hoffman

  He’d already met most of those in the Pink Mink crew. In addition to Tim Andrews and Hal Waller, the list included Charlie Jones, the back stretch spotter, and Sergio Briggs, semi driver, heavy equipment handler, and some-time cook. And, of course, Ray Bentler.

  Riker’s team had only four, including Kent Riker. Quint didn’t know any of them.

  On another piece of paper he wrote the name Dexter and man at curb. He believed, even though it was a long shot, those two people were on the list of the ten crew members in question. Proving it was another matter. None of them had a name even close to Dexter.

  Maybe I can find out if one of them knew a man named Dexter.

  His first priority was identifying the man Katherine talked to on the phone and the man they were talking about.

  One of them, Quint was convinced, was Katherine’s murderer, and the man who ran Jamie off the road.

  Below those two people, Quint wrote in bold letters, Buster LeCorre. Could he have been the man Penny saw talking to Katherine at the curb? Not likely. Buster didn’t know where Katherine lived or that Jamie existed. Was he the man on the phone calling Katherine? Doubtful. If he’d had contact with Katherine he would probably have known he had a daughter.

  Was Buster the man Katherine was talking about? Likely. If either Jamie or T-Roy turned out not to be Buster’s offspring—very likely!

  The question now was, should he save some time and work by confronting Buster directly? Buster had tests done, he’d know the results. Whether or not Quint could convince him to share that information was another matter.

  He looked up, smiling as Jamie walked in the door carrying a tray of coffee. As much as he appreciated the coffee, he appreciated the sight of her more. She wore a royal blue Chicago Cubs sweat suit that did nothing for her figure, but he had a delicious memory of every curve under her baggy clothes. Setting the tray on the table, she went to stand behind him. She put her arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head. His hair was still damp from the shower they’d taken together.

  “Got it all figured out yet?” she asked, glancing at the orderly array of papers spread in front of him.

  Welcoming the distraction, Quint pushed his chair back and pulled her onto his lap. He nuzzled his face in her soft hair, kissed her neck, and pulled back, sighing. “I don’t have anything concrete. It’s all speculation.”

  “What can I do to help?” she asked.

  Quint’s hand slipped under her sweatshirt to massage her back. “Are you convinced Buster didn’t know about you before you came to live with him?”

  “I’m positive,” she said, filling two mugs with steaming black brew. “It’s strange how I can’t recall my mother’s anger on the phone, but I clearly remember his. I know now it was directed at Katherine rather than me but at the time his harsh words hurt something awful. He might as well have thrown sharp knives at me.”

  “Do you remember anything specific he said?”

  “Yeah, at least two dozen words I’d never heard before and don’t care to repeat. He called my mother every horrible name imaginable. Then he said something like he wasn’t going to be stuck with her brat, and I could go live in the streets for all he gave a damn.”

  “Good God, he must have seemed like a monster to you.”

  “He was a monster.” Jamie said, bouncing to her feet. “I told him so too. I called him a big ugly liar and said that I’d rather live in a Dumpster than with him.”

  Quint grinned. “What did he do when you said that?”

  “He stared at me for a long time. Then he did the strangest thing, he laughed. That scared me even more. I thought he was going to kill me. That’s when I saw T-Roy for the first time. He came into the room wondering what all the commotion was about. Buster told him to take me and my junk to the spare bedroom.”

  Jamie smiled. “T-Roy was wonderful. He told me not to pay any attention to his father because he was always yelling about something. T-Roy was a gangly ten-year old, but to me he was a savior. He helped me put my things away and told me he would take care of me forever. The next day Buster hauled both of us to a clinic to get stuck with needles.”

  Quint shuddered when he took a sip of the strong coffee Jamie handed him. “Do you know if Buster is still in Richmond? I want to have a private chat with him before I go back to New York. I have a feeling he knows a lot more than he’s telling.”

  Jamie shrugged. “I can’t imagine he’d tell you anything helpful if my mother was involved.”

  “It’s more than your mother involved here. It’s you. Somebody tried to kill you. Until that person is apprehended, I won’t feel right about leaving you alone. And I need to get back to New York tomorrow, Wednesday at the latest. Any chance I can talk you into coming with me?”

  Jamie bent over and kissed him. “Thank you for asking, but I have to water my plants.” She laughed when Quint raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “Actually I have to go down to the shop. Tim is testing a new engine I need for the Talladega race in a couple of weeks. It’s one of the biggest and fastest tracks, two point six miles. I might have a chance at winning that one.”

  Quint drew a deep heavy breath of air. “You’ll be in New Hampshire this weekend?”

  Jamie nodded. “And in Talladega, Alabama, the following week. If you like, I could spend a couple of days with you in New York in between.”

  “I’d like that very much,” Quint said, reaching across the table to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “Now, what about Buster? Is he still here in Richmond?”

  “I’ll call his hotel and see if he’s checked out.”

  Jamie dialed the number to the Remington Hotel two blocks away. She talked on the phone for a few minutes, hung up and turned back to Quint.

  “They had a problem loading the semi so he’s still there. He has a one o’clock flight to Chicago this afternoon. If you meet him in the lobby of his hotel in an hour he’ll buy you breakfast.”

  * * * *

  Exactly one hour later, Quint walked into the Remington hotel. Having Buster agree to talk to him was a stroke of luck. In spite of Jamie’s perception of the man, Quint still had a hard time believing Buster was as bad as she thought. By the time breakfast was over he hoped to verify that.

  Buster was waiting in a corner booth in the hotel restaurant, a cup of heavily creamed coffee cradled in his hands. Another full steaming cup sat across from him for Quint.

  They exchanged a cordial greeting, shook hands, and Quint took a seat. A plump middle-aged waitress appeared, left them both menus, and promised to be right back.

  “I took a guess you wanted coffee. I’d recommend number three, the Farmers Special,” Buster said. “Has too much cholesterol but it’ll stick to your ribs.”

  Quint glanced at the menu, set it aside and nodded. “Looks good to me. Thanks, I did want coffee.”

  “I’m glad you had Jamie call me,” Buster said, “’cause I wanted to talk to you too.”

  Quint looked at the older man in surprise. “What about?”

  “Do you know who ran Jamie off the road?”

  “I wish I did. I’m still working on it. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I’m here. I hoped you could help.”

  Buster shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. There are a few drivers who don’t like her being on the track, including Clay Riker, but I can’t believe any of them would take it as far as trying to run her down on a public highway.”

  “I can tell you right now it wasn’t Riker,” Quint said. “It was someone older.”

  “How did you come up with that idea?”

  Quint hesitated. He had considered leveling with Buster, but not until he was comfortable that Buster was going to be honest with him “Before I answer that, I’d like to pick your brain on a few things. You can always tell me to go to hell, but keep in mind I’m looking out for Jamie.”

  “Why would I tell you to go to hell?”

  “Because it concerns your ex-wife.”

  Buster’s eyes nar
rowed. “I don’t understand what she has to do with this.”

  “Katherine’s death and Jamie’s incident on the freeway are related.”

  Buster’s face turned a dark shade of red. “How the hell do you figure? If you’re getting around to blaming me for either one, you’re full of crap way up past your brain and into the roots of your hair follicles.”

  “I’m not blaming you,” Quint said, quickly.

  For a long moment Buster stared at Quint, his breathing and color slowly coming back to normal. “You know something the police don’t know?”

  “I’d rather not answer that…but you didn’t let me finish. This might be a long shot, but I also believe Jim Bodean’s death is related to the two.”

  “Jesus Christ, either you’re one of those crystal ball gazers or you’re fucking crazy!”

  A soft laugh rumbled up from Quint’s chest. “I can assure you I’m neither. What I am is an investigator by trade and I’m also someone who cares an awful lot about your daughter.”

  While Buster was digesting that, the waitress appeared for their order. “We’ll both have a number three,” he snapped, “and bring a pot of coffee, none of that decaf crap.”

  The waitress raised an eyebrow at him. “Dare I ask how you like your eggs?”

  “Scrambled.”

  She looked at Quint. “You?”

  “Same.”

  “So what do you want from me?” Buster asked after she left.

  “I have some questions. Some are personal, but they’re important, so I need honest answers. It would help if you didn’t question my motives at every turn.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Quint managed to hide a smile. Buster LeCorre was not an easy man, but maybe he was an honest one.

  Quint took out a small 4x6 notebook. He called it his non-intimidator—a big yellow pad tended to make people wary. “According to Jamie, you didn’t know about her until she came to live with you?”

  “Of course I didn’t know. I didn’t even know the wench was pregnant when she left. Why—?”

  Quint held up his hand. “You have a plane to catch. Just a simple yes or no is all I need.”

  “Screw my plane. There are other flights. But fine. The answer is no, I didn’t.”

  “And you didn’t know where Katherine lived?”

  “No, and I didn’t give a damn either.”

  “I’ll be sure to make note of that on the off chance somebody doesn’t already know it.”

  Buster chuckled. “Smart ass, ain’t you?”

  Quint smirked. “Some things just come naturally. Did you have any contact at all with her between the time she left you and Jamie appeared on your doorstep?”

  “No.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t hit you up for child support.”

  “Hell, why would she? She left me to raise T-Roy, and just for fun, wiped out every one of my bank accounts.”

  “How long were you married to Katherine before she left you?”

  “About seven years, I guess, seven long years.”

  “Was Katherine faithful to you?”

  Buster threw his head back and laughed. “Katherine Devon was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and if she wanted to, she could treat a man like a million bucks, but I doubt she ever looked up the word ‘faithful’ in the dictionary.”

  “Was T-Roy your son?”

  Buster sobered quickly. “What kind of a fucking question is that?”

  Quint was hoping Buster wouldn’t give him a simple yes or no answer. He really hated doing this to the man, but if he was going to get to the bottom of this whole mess it was necessary.

  “When Jamie arrived at your house you took her and T-Roy in for paternity tests.”

  “So?”

  “So Jamie said you weren’t happy with the results. Was it because Jamie turned out to be your child but T-Roy wasn’t, or the other way around?”

  Buster’s eye’s narrowed. “Maybe I was just pissed because I wanted to get rid of Jamie, and when I found out she belonged to me I couldn’t.”

  “That’s what Jamie thinks.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  The problem is that I think there’s more to it than that. I can get copies of those tests, but I’d rather you told me what the results were.”

  “Why the hell do you need to fish around in that? Let it go.”

  “Believe me, I wish I could. The night Katherine died, she got a phone call. The person she talked to was holding something over her head. I don’t think he was blackmailing her for money. I think it was emotional blackmail. Do you have any idea who she could have been talking to or what he might have been using to threaten her?”

  “Shit. The woman was up close and personal with the devil himself. She screwed every man she met in one form or another. Who do you think it was?” Buster asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. There’s a good chance he’s the man who killed Katherine and ran Jamie off the road.”

  “I don’t see how the two are connected.”

  “Trust me on that, they are.”

  “Well, fuck.”

  The waitress walked up with two heaping plates of food. She set one plate in front of each of them and asked if there was anything else they needed, before making made a hasty departure.

  Buster picked up his fork, looked down at his food, but didn’t start eating. “What if I told you there might be something useful in those tests? Could you leave it at that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does Jamie have to know?”

  “I can’t promise not to tell her, but I won’t if I can avoid it.”

  “And you won’t go after the tests?”

  “No.”

  Buster put a forkful of food in his mouth. He didn’t say anymore.

  He didn’t have to.

  Quint had his answer. He picked up his fork and started to eat.

  “Do you have more questions?” Buster asked, after a time.

  “Do you have any hunches as to who Katherine might have been talking to on the phone that night?”

  “If I knew, he’d be dead.”

  Quint smiled. For all his gruffness, Buster had knowingly raised a child that wasn’t his. Whether it was Jamie or T-Roy, Buster was not the ogre Jamie believed him to be.

  “One more thing,” Quint said. “Do you know a man named Dexter?”

  Buster thought for a moment. “No, can’t say I do,” he said. He picked up the coffee pot and filled both of their cups. When he set it down he looked at Quint, a curious frown on his face. “Why?”

  “It’s just a name that came up. May or may not be important.”

  “Sure you don’t mean Decker?”

  Quint paused with a forkful of food on the way to his mouth. He tried to keep the excitement from his voice. “Could be. You know somebody named Decker?”

  “Decker Jones. He used his middle name when he was driving.”

  “He was a driver?” Quint asked.

  “Yeah. A damn good one, but he quit after he hit the wall, causing an eight car pileup at Daytona in the opening race of the season.”

  When Buster didn’t go on, Quint prompted him. “Sounds like it was a bad one.”

  “The worst I’ve ever seen, or been in.”

  “You were in it?” Quint asked, surprised.

  Buster nodded slowly. “Yeah, I had only been driving a year. My car went end over end seven times. I wound up with a broken back. Fortunately it healed all right, but I couldn’t race anymore. Kent Riker was driving that day too. His car started burning, and it took a while to douse the fire and pull him out. Back then we didn’t have all the safety features we have now.”

  “How bad was he hurt?”

  “Physically, just a few minor burns, but mentally he was washed up. Being trapped in a burning car can do that to a man.”

  “What about Decker Jones?”

  “Amazingly, he wasn’t hurt at all, not ph
ysically anyway, but he took it pretty hard. The four of us, Kent, Decker, Percy, and I grew up together. We all went into racing about the same time. It was a dream we had in high school.”

  “Percy?”

  “Yeah, Percy Goodman. His car burned too, only they couldn’t get him out in time.”

  “Jesus. So Decker was guilt ridden and quit racing.”

  “That pretty much sums it up.”

  Quint knew Buster to be fifty-seven. That put the rest of them at about the same age. “How long ago did this happen?”

  “About eighteen months after I married Katherine. T-Roy was just a toddler.”

  Quint took a moment to digest that. “You said he used the name Decker Jones back then. Do you know where he is now?”

  “Charles Decker Jones. Charlie is Jamie’s back stretch spotter.” Buster obviously noticed Quint’s surprised look because he went on quickly, “Just in case you think Charlie is mixed up in any of this, you should know that as far as I’m concerned, he’s the most decent person I know. He’d lay his life down for Jamie, or for me for that matter.”

  Quint gave a simple nod. He decided not to comment. Obviously Buster didn’t know that Charlie Decker Jones was keeping company with Katherine. Was he seeing her even before Buster divorced?

  Quint spent the last few minutes of his time with Buster filling in the blank spots regarding the rest of the men on his list. Buster had been in the business a long time. He knew who had been drivers, who was married or divorced, and who had worked on the NASCAR circuit during the years in question. He finally closed his notebook and thanked Buster for his time.

  Buster pushed his empty plate aside and refilled his coffee cup. “Now I have a question,” he said. “Earlier you mentioned you thought Jimbo’s death might be tied into all this other garbage. What makes you think that?”

  Quint hesitated. He certainly couldn’t tell Buster that he and Jamie had been in Clay’s house that night and might have been spotted by the killer.