“That’s what you meant about owing me one? You pushed me over the finish line on purpose, didn’t you!”
“I shouldn’t have taken you out at Darlington. You would have had your first win.”
“Why did you?”
For a moment Clay avoided looking at her, when he did there was deep sadness in his eyes. “I can only tell you, it wasn’t my idea. That’s not an excuse,” he added quickly. “I’m an adult; I have my own mind. I just let myself be led around by the nose a little too much by somebody else. Then after Jimbo was killed… Let’s just say I came to my senses. If I find out this person had anything to do with Jimbo’s death he’s going to find himself in water so hot he’ll wish he’d never been born. Right now I’m keeping an eye on anyone who disliked Jimbo enough to even think about killing him.”
Jamie stared at him, watching him eat, absorbing what he’d said. She didn’t dislike Jimbo and she certainly didn’t harbor any thoughts of killing him. Mentioning that to Clay seemed unnecessary, but who was telling Clay to take her out of the race at Richmond? It was obvious he didn’t want to tell her.
“Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill him?” she asked.
Clay licked bacon grease off his fingers, while reaching for a napkin in a straw holder on the table. “I have my suspicions.”
“Did you tell the police?”
Clay scoffed. “Tell them what? That somebody found out I was gay and killed my lover? Or that one of the guys made a play for me, and decided to eliminate the competition? If word gets out that I prefer men to women, my racing career will be finished. You know that as well as I do.”
Jamie nodded. “You’re probably right. It’s not fair. What about this person who hit on you, he must know.”
“Yeah, he saw me and Jimbo in a bar after the Michigan race four weeks ago. Don’t you even think about asking who it is because, even if I do trust you, I won’t tell you. He’s a switch hitter, so he has a good cover. He won’t be telling anyone, not without exposing himself. I’ve dated women for that same reason.”
“Like me,” Jamie said.
“Yes, and I’m sorry. I knew from the start it couldn’t work, but you know how Dad kept pushing. That’s no excuse, but I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“This guy who hit on you? Is he on one of the teams?”
“More or less.”
“How old is he?”
“What the hell difference does that make?”
Jamie hesitated a moment. “I just wondered. That’s all.”
Clay gave her a curious look. “Not that it’s important but he’s almost old enough to be my father. He’s just out for fun and games. I’m not interested in him. I wasn’t before Jimbo died and I’m sure as hell not now, but if I suspect he killed Jimbo, I’m going to get interested real quick.”
By the angry twist of his lips Jamie had no doubt Clay was ready to take the law into his own hands. In his present state of mind, she knew it was useless to warn him against such tactics.
“What about the other person you mentioned? The one who didn’t like the idea of me winning? You think he might have killed Jimbo for being involved with you?”
“I find it hard to believe. I’m speculating because I can’t come up with any other motive. One thing is for sure, I’m going to be running my own race from here on in.” He pushed his empty plate aside, lowered his head to his hands, and pressed shaking fingers to his temples. After a moment he lifted his head to look at her. “I’d appreciate it if you kept this conversation between us. If you go to the police, I’ll deny every word.”
“You should know by now you can trust me.”
Clay smiled. “You’re right, I’m sorry. When you mentioned how we lost a good friendship when we got involved, I felt that way too. I missed the good times we used to have. You and I and T-Roy…and Jimbo.”
Jamie was relieved to know Clay felt the same way she did about their engagement. She sighed, wistfully. “I think missing T-Roy was one of the reasons I turned to you. I was so lonely after he died. All I had left was a father who hated me.”
Clay looked at her with something akin to anger on his face. “Your father never hated you, Jamie.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Yes, it is easy because I know better. You held T-Roy on a pedestal right up there with God. There was no way your father could compete with that. Somebody should have told you a long time ago that T-Roy wasn’t a saint.”
“He was to me,” Jamie insisted, adamantly.
“You saw only what you wanted to see.”
Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Just exactly what are you trying to tell me?”
Clay took a deep long breath. “I suppose you don’t remember T-Roy taking you out and getting you drunk when you were still in high school? Or how cruel he was to waitresses. Or how he cheated at games. Even with his adoring little kid sister who thought he could do no wrong.”
Jamie tried not to listen. She didn’t want to hear anymore, but Clay wasn’t through with her.
“What about the time he let you take the rap for smashing Buster’s car?”
“I had to. Buster would have thrashed him!”
“Instead, Buster grounded you for three weeks. And that wasn’t the first, or only time you took the blame for you brother’s shenanigans.”
“So? It didn’t make any difference. Buster was always an ass to me.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you deserved some of that?”
Jamie charged to her feet. “I suppose I deserved that lousy guitar for graduation when T-Roy got a Corvette?”
Clay stood up splaying his hands on the table. He leaned toward her, his face dark. “That’s about the fiftieth time you’ve told that story. It’s about time somebody told you the truth. You got that lousy guitar because T-Roy gambled away the two thousand dollars Buster gave him to buy your graduation gift.”
Jamie’s breath came in short gasps. She wanted to scream at Clay, call him a liar, and accuse him of being jealous of T-Roy, but the words froze in her throat. Instead, she sank into her chair and buried her face in shaking hands.
She felt she had been doused by ice water. Then it dawned on her that Quint probably knew about T-Roy, and that’s why he refused to tell her about his conversation with Buster. She wanted to lash out at Buster for not being the person she lived her life believing he was, and she wanted to lash out at T-Roy for the same reason. So much wasted energy. Why hadn’t somebody told her earlier? Of course, she already knew the answer to that.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Jamie, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.”
“How long have you known?” She whispered.
“Maybe you don’t realize I practically grew up at your house. You think you had it bad, you should have spent some time around my father. He could have taught cruelty to the devil. Buster may have lacked parenting skills but my father lacked humanity skills.” Clay gave her a sympathetic look. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I was with T-Roy at the horse races that day he spent your money. We got into a big fight because I called him a jerk. He just laughed it off and said you wouldn’t care what kind of a guitar you got, since you didn’t know how to play it anyway. We stopped at a pawnshop on the way home. He didn’t have any money left so I gave him the fifty bucks to buy that old guitar.”
Jamie sat up and wiped at the tears sliding down her cheeks. “Did Buster know?” She asked.
“That’s the really sad part. Yeah, he knew, but you had such stars in your eyes for your brother that Buster let you think the worst of him to keep you from knowing the truth about T-Roy. Your father started off on the wrong foot with you, and because of T-Roy, he was never able to overcome it.”
“How could I have been so blind?”
Clay smiled. “Don’t blame yourself. T-Roy was a master con artist. That was part of his charm. We had great times together in our growing-up years. Don’t misunderstand me. T-Roy had a l
ot of good qualities too. We remained friends even after he realized just how close Jimbo and I were. It never bothered him.”
Jamie grabbed a napkin from the table and dried her eyes. “Are you going to New Hampshire tomorrow? We have to qualify.”
Clay grinned. “You bet I am. I’ve been wallowing in self–pity for the last two days. I think you lifted me out of it. I’ve even made up my mind; I’m going to run my own race Sunday. I’m through taking instructions from other people.”
“Can’t you tell me who these people are?” she asked, in one last attempt to get names out of him.
“When the timing’s right, believe me, you’ll know.”
On the drive home, a shocking realization hit Jamie. Quint refused to tell her about the conversation he had with Buster regarding the paternity tests. If the tests had been favorable he would have told her. That meant there was a good chance that Buster wasn’t her father. If Buster wasn’t her father, the man who had killed her mother very likely was.
Horrible images were crowding in her mind. By the time she got home her head was pounding. She tried calling Quint, but his line was busy. She’d try again later but right now her mood called for a long, hot soak in the tub. She made her way up the winding staircase to her bedroom, acutely aware of the loneliness without Quint there. She’d been lonely before, but since Quint came into her life, it was sharper, more pronounced.
After starting the water running, she lit her aromatherapy candles, put a generous helping of bath salts under the rushing tap and stripped off her clothes.
She put a Reba McEntire tape in her old boom box, turned the volume way down, and set the phone near the tub so she wouldn’t have to get out to answer it if Quint called. Easing into the steamy sudsy water, she laid her head back, and willed her body to relax. She breathed deeply of the scented candles, listened to Reba, and concentrated on not thinking. She didn’t want to think. Not about T-Roy. Not about Katherine. And definitely, most definitely, not about Buster.
Minutes later the ringing phone startled her out of her stupor. She reached for the receiver, smiling, expecting to hear Quint’s voice.
It was Penny.
“Hi Jamie. Sorry to bother you but you did ask me to call if I remembered anything else.”
Jamie came to an abrupt sitting position. “Of course. You can call me anytime. What is it?”
“I remembered another name.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
It took Quint three hours, first on the Internet and then on the telephone, to track down Talon Davis’ two ex-wives. The first one, Naomi Davis, lived in California. His second wife, Francine Dempsey, was remarried and using her husband’s last name. She lived in Cleveland.
It was six o’clock Thursday evening by the time he dialed Naomi’s number. He was about to hang up when she answered on the fifth ring.
“Hello.” Her tone was curt and impatient.
“Hello, Ms. Davis?”
“Yeah, who is this?”
“Quint Douglas—”
“If you’re selling something I’m not interested.”
“This isn’t a sales call. I’m doing some investigative work and I’d like to ask a few questions about your ex-husband.”
“Which one?”
“Talon Davis.”
“Oh yeah, what’s the A-hole done now?”
“It sounds like you didn’t part on friendly terms.”
She snorted. “Now, that’s an understatement. You might add that we weren’t married on friendly terms either. I was just a kid out of high school, and he was a big deal NASCAR driver. I thought I had snagged a real prize when I married him. We were married only two weeks when I caught him cheating on me, with another man’s wife no less. I was pissed as hell and damn hurt. You know how he apologized?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I got two black eyes. I had to wear dark glasses for a week. The next time he cheated, I had my arm in a sling for a month. It took me two years of abuse to wise up and get the hell out. I’ll be glad to answer any questions you have.”
You already answered most of them, Quint thought. “How long have you been divorced from Davis?” he asked.
“More than twenty years. I don’t exactly keep the date in my calendar so I can celebrate it, if you know what I mean.”
“Any kids?”
“Not by me. He got some other trollop pregnant though. I’m not sure, but I think she had an abortion. At least he never mentioned a kid being born, and I wasn’t aware that he paid any child support.”
“When was that?”
“Before we were married. I think he got it tied off after she got pregnant. A little fact he forgot to mention before the wedding. Too bad they didn’t cut it off.”
When Quint hung up, he blew a stream of air out through his teeth. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and took a deep swallow before dialing Francine Dempsey’s number.
A man answered.
“Hello, Dempsey residence.”
Quint could hear children in the background. “Yes, may I speak to Francine?”
“Sure, just a minute.” He held the phone aside and called, “Francie? It’s for you, one of your clients, I think.”
It took a few moments for her to respond. “Hello, sorry, I was helping Peter get his computer running. I don’t even know why he’s asking me, teenagers know a lot more about that stuff than us older folks do. So which house are you interested in?”
“You’re a real estate agent?” Quint asked.
She was silent for a moment. “Who is this, please?”
“My name is Quint Douglas. I’m doing an investigation on Talon Davis. I was hoping you could answer some questions.”
This time the silence was longer. “That part of my life is over,” she said, finally.
“I understand that. I’ll try to make it brief. If I get too personal just tell me, and I’ll back off.”
She gave a long sigh. “All right. What do you need to know?”
“How long were you married?”
“Five years, but we only lived together three of them. Three long years, the longest most horrible three years of my life.”
“How would you describe your ex-husband?”
“He was a user and a woman hater. He was physically and mentally abusive. It took me two years of therapy to be able to say that.”
“Any children?”
“Thank God, no.”
“Did he have any children before you married him?”
“None that I’m aware of. It wouldn’t surprise me though. To my knowledge he didn’t pay any child support. I would certainly feel sorry for any child of his. He was an awful husband. I’m sure he would have made an even worse father.”
“I guess that’s all I need for now. Thanks for your time.”
“What’s this all about anyway?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, but I won’t be using your name if that’s a concern for you.”
“I’d appreciate that. I have a new life now, and it’s a very happy one.”
“Glad to hear that. Good luck to you. If I’m ever looking for a house in Cleveland I’ll look you up.”
Quint was left with the sound of her soft laughter as she said goodbye and hung up.
He took a swig of his beer, tabulating the information from Davis’s exes. One thing was certain; Talon Davis wasn’t winning any husband-of-the-year awards. Quint couldn’t imagine someone like him being Jamie’s father, or anyone’s father, for that matter. He reached for the phone, intending to call Hunter. The phone rang in his hand before he could dial.
It was Virgil.
“Hey Cuz, how’s the investigating going?”
Quint grunted. “I don’t need any more suspects if that’s why you’re calling.”
“Sounds like you have your hands full,” Virgil said. “But I have a question. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but I don’t remember seeing an autopsy report on Katherine Devon. Did we miss it or wasn’t it there?”
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“I went through everything again on the flight back; I didn’t see it.”
“Why don’t you give your buddy, Ralph Sampson, a call and see if he got a copy of one. If he didn’t, ask him why.”
“Sure thing. I’ll call him in the morning.”
“Are you going up to New Hampshire for the race this weekend?”
“Yeah, not until Saturday morning though. I’m loaded with work here. Are you and Stephen coming?”
“Wish I could, but this court case is taking longer than I expected. Stephen has a skydiving meet in Wisconsin. Sounds like Hunter and Nicole will be there to keep you company. They got back this afternoon.”
“I was just about to call him.”
“Okay, catch you later. Let me know if Sampson has that autopsy report, and if he’ll let you see it.”
“Will do.”
Quint hung up and dialed Hunter’s number.
Shanna, Hunter’s seven-year-old daughter, answered the phone on the first ring.
“Hello, Douglas residence, this is Shanna Douglas speaking.”
“Hi Shanna, this is your Uncle Quint. It sounds like you enjoy using your new name.”
Shanna giggled. “It’s so fun. Me and Kyle officially belong to Hunter and Nicole now; we have a mom and a dad. Kyle’s name is Kyle Jonathon Douglas. I started first grade because I had a birthday and I’m seven, but Kyle’s only in preschool ’cause he won’t be five until October. Of course, we have a new grandpa and grandma too, and when Aunt Corinne and Uncle Billy have their baby, we’ll have a cousin.”
Quint was laughing when she finally stopped for a breath of air. “Do you suppose I could talk to your daddy?”
“I think that would be all right, but let me ask him in case he’s too busy. They’re still unpacking ’cause we were on a honeymoon in the Care’been. We had lots of fun snorkeling. Just a minute, please.”
Quint heard some more giggles before she handed the phone to Hunter.
“Hey, Quint, good to hear from you. Sounds like you were getting your ear talked off.”
Quint laughed. “That girl is a delight. You’re a lucky man.”
“Life is good. How are things on your end? I understand you’re finding a little luck yourself these days.”
Secret Sacrifices Page 26
