by Catie Rhodes
“Tell you what,” Memaw said. “There’s a new rule in this house. We won’t act like you seeing through the veil is a secret. It isn’t, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner. And if there’s ever something I do that you can’t understand, just ask me. When you bury things, time just buries them deeper.”
We hugged and cut into a pie intended for the bake sale. Sugar and lard didn’t cure everything, but it helped.
TWENTY
FOR the second time in less than a week, I made the trek to Tyler in my old gas-guzzler. This time, it cost even more because I had to pass off a lucrative appointment to one of my competitors.
I checked my rearview mirror often for the black GTO. Last Friday night taught me not to let it catch me unaware. Especially not on these lonely country roads.
By the time I reached Tyler, I was a nervous wreck. I drove past Dara’s apartment the first time and had to double back. She lived in an apartment complex of five beat-up two story buildings with walk-up entrances. Since I was fifteen minutes early, I sat in the car considering what I was about to do.
A lot of things could happen once I got inside Dara’s apartment. She could be playing both sides of the fence and have Rae’s boyfriend up there waiting for me. If he was the same man I encountered the morning of Rae’s murder, he’d hurt me again. Maybe kill me. Or Dara herself could do me harm.
I wished I traveled with some sort of weapon. I rarely thought of myself as a weak, vulnerable woman, but I was. I dug through my glove box until I found a few rolls of quarters I used when I took things to the Laundromat for clients. They’d do in a pinch. My punch would pack a lot more of a wallop with a roll clenched in my fist. I slipped the rolls into my jacket pocket and climbed out of the car.
For once, my luck was in. Had it been one of those modern cities of endless apartment buildings, I’d have never found building three, where unit three-twelve was sure to be.
Dara must have heard my feet ringing on the metal stairs leading to her apartment and opened the door. She beamed. “You right on time, ain’t cha, girl?”
Dara turned out to be a brunette version of Rae, voluptuous with a tiny, flat waist and long, tanned legs. Her wild, brown hair stuck out every which way without being curly. She motioned me inside.
I smelled nag champa, which usually meant dope unless Dara had a spiritual side. Sure enough, I spotted a half-smoked doobie in a heavy glass ashtray on the coffee table. Apprehension spiked into my muscles, tightening them painfully. Dara might be a harmless pothead. On the other hand, the joint could be the only sign I’d get before things went to hell in a big hurry. I glanced around the apartment, praying I’d notice any warning signs I needed to run for my life.
“How come you moved?” I pretended I hadn’t seen the roach. Dara might take any interest I showed as a desire to smoke with her, and I wanted that almost as much as I wanted a raging case of acne.
“My old apartment got broken into.” Dara displayed the half-lidded stare and slow, careful speech of the profoundly stoned. “My roommate said it was my fault since my room was the only one messed up. People are always doing that, going back on their word, getting mad for no reason—”
“You told me on the phone you have a picture of Rae and her boyfriend and a package Rae addressed to me?” I would have to keep reminding Dara of my visit’s purpose. Being with Dara reminded me of my short first marriage. It also reminded me of Chase. As much as I missed him, I didn’t miss this. I couldn’t wait to get back out to my car and sanity.
“I totally forgot.” Dara pointed her finger at me and giggled. “Lemme go get it.”
She meandered into the only other room, which I guessed was a bedroom. Several long minutes later, right as I was about to go looking for her, Dara walked slow as a turtle out of the bedroom.
“Man, I forgot where I put the stupid thing.” Dara handed me a brown padded envelope addressed to me in Rae’s handwriting. After I took it from her, she handed me the picture, her face set in a mask of studious concentration.
The picture had been taken in a nightclub and was dark. To make matters worse, a flickering television provided the only light in Dara’s apartment. I walked into the galley kitchen and flipped on the light. A group shot, the picture showed several of the girls I met at The Chameleon. Dara, who was absent, must have been the photographer.
Right there, wearing her biggest cheese-eating grin, was Rae. Benny Longstreet sat next to her with his arm around her shoulders. A thrill worked its way through me. I’d suspected Benny had known Rae in the Biblical sense, but seeing the proof of it took my breath away.
Someone knocked. Dara stared as though she had no idea what to do. Maybe she didn’t.
“I’ll get it.” I went to admit our guest, planning to make an excuse to leave.
Dara’s slack expression showed no recognition.
I pulled open the door. The person on the other side wore camouflage head to toe, but I recognized him. Benny. Before I could react, Benny reared back a fist and slugged me in the stomach. My breath whooshed out of me, and my knees loosened. Sucker punched again. Those damn coin rolls hadn’t done me a bit of good.
As I struggled to pull in a breath, he yanked the picture out of my hand and shoved me to the floor. I curled into the fetal position, fully expecting him to kick me. His footsteps thundered down the metal steps as he ran away.
Dara, belatedly, screamed for help. She sounded slow and confused. A door across the way opened. A guy with no shirt and stringy, long hair boiled out of his apartment and ran after Benny, but he only went a few steps before he returned.
“You all right, lady?” He leaned over me. “Want me to call the po-po?”
I rolled onto my knees, still whooping for breath. I couldn’t speak, but I shook my head. The metal stairs clanged as someone ran up them. I braced myself for Benny’s return and moaned in relief when I saw Dean. He ran to me and knelt beside me.
“You all right?” he asked. I nodded.
The shirtless guy peered into Dara’s apartment. “Dude...is that, like, a roach in your ashtray? You probably don’t want to, like, call the po-po if you’ve got a roach in the ashtray.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that Dean was the po-po. Behind us, Dara wailed in a shrill monotone, oblivious to everything.
“Can you please stop?” Dean glared at her.
Dara continued to wail, never acknowledging two extra people were in her apartment.
“Shut up,” Dean hollered.
Dara jumped. I sucked in a breath of air.
Dean pulled me to my feet. “I saw him come up here, but I hung back to see what happened. I am so sorry. Let me get you out of here.”
“Get the package addressed to me off the counter in the kitchen.” I pointed at it, and Dean hurried into the kitchen and grabbed it.
Dara watched us like a show on TV, her mouth half open. I thanked her for her hospitality and left her standing there with the no-shirt guy. Maybe they’d make a love connection.
Dean made no effort to hide his guilt. He apologized to me numerous times on the way to car, babbling about jurisdiction and gut feelings.
“I had the morning off and decided to go out to the lake. Stopped in a convenience store for gas. Benny was in there with a bunch of road munchies. He told the cashier he was headed to Tyler on business. I just knew.”
“Don’t.” I shook my head, still fighting to breathe. “I’m all right. Or, at least, I will be. Let’s see what’s in this package.”
I tore open the package and found nothing but a DVD. Disappointment flooded me. We’d have to wait until we got home to see what was on it.
“Don’t touch it,” Dean said. He used a piece of paper and a pen to get the DVD out of its case. “I’ve got a DVD player in the car.”
“What on earth for?”
“I’ve got two nephews. Last time I took them out, they left it. I’ve been meaning to give it back, but…” He shrugged.
***
Dean dug around in his ratty old Trans Am and came up with a portable DVD player.
We crowded together and turned on the DVD. At first, the frame showed nothing but an empty motel room. Within seconds, a woman’s giggle became audible. Rae and Benny, buck naked, walked into the room. The two must have come from the bathroom. Their bodies glistened with water.
They went straight to the bed kissing. Rae glanced at the computer several times, probably wondering if it was recording her little show. When they finally got down to business, Benny’s back was to the camera. The little thatch of hair above his buttocks was perfectly visible.
I wandered away to let Turgeau watch the DVD by himself. Dean viewed the distasteful show with one hand over his mouth and one eyebrow raised. After a few minutes, he motioned me to join him.
The DVD screen showed nothing but white text on a blue background. It read:
Benny,
I am pregnant. Whether or not the baby is yours, this DVD will raise enough doubt to cost you your seat on the Gaslight City Council, your post as deacon of Gaslight City First Baptist Church, your wife and your kids, and half of your money.
I will gladly disappear if you’ll give me half a million dollars. Don’t try to tell me you’re not good for it, because I know you are. Don’t be resentful. I’ve got trouble riding my ass, too, otherwise, I wouldn’t do you this way. We had fun together.
Rae
“She improved that letter, didn’t she?” Turgeau’s eyes flitted over me, and everything below my navel tightened. Heat zinged between us. We have to do something about our attraction and soon.
“Rae must have owed Veronica Spinelli money,” I said. “I can’t figure out why, though. I bet a silver dollar Veronica is in cahoots with her old partner in crime, Billy Ryder. Maybe he helped her squeeze Rae for money. Either way, from all accounts, she threatened Rae.”
“I’ll give you the why,” Turgeau said. “Yesterday evening, I received intelligence from Gatesville Prison from one Tonya Russell, who knew both Rae and Veronica. Ms. Russell said Rae promised Veronica money for protection in prison. Apparently Rae got Pastor Michael Gage to speak at both hers and Veronica’s parole hearings, which went a long way to getting them released. I guess that wasn’t enough.”
“Remind me to never go to prison,” I said.
We got quiet. It was human nature to bounce back, to forget we were talking about a woman who’d never feel sunlight again, have children, or learn she was above this trashy behavior.
“So what are you going to do now?” I asked Turgeau.
“Well, this might surprise you, since you think you’re the only one who can properly investigate Rae’s murder, but Mr. Bennett Longstreet was already under investigation. This DVD gives me enough to get a search warrant. Don’t know how long it’ll take me to pick him up. If you see him, run.”
Dean and I ate lunch together. The heat from our kiss and the earlier contact made sitting in such close proximity a dizzying experience. Had I not had a job that afternoon and needed the money, I’d have suggested getting a cheap room at a no-tell motel.
Instead, I screwed up my courage and said, “What are you doing tonight?”
“Arresting Benny. Shift ends at eleven. Wanna come over?” His lips parted as he waited for my answer.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to get involved with people in an ongoing investigation.” I kept my tone light and teasing, but I sincerely didn’t want to get him in trouble with his boss. Sheriff Joey would be pissed when he figured out Dean and I were seeing each other.
“After all the rules I’ve seen broken down at that sheriff’s office, I’m not too worried about it.”
“Tonight,” I said.
***
I drove back to Gaslight City and spent the rest of the day working. A dizzying pirouette of desire mixed with a barrage of worst-case scenarios plagued my every task. I worked late because I couldn’t stand having nothing to do until it was time to go to Dean’s. Somehow, I made it to his house in one piece.
Dean lived in a rundown mid-twentieth century Tudor a few blocks from the Mace House. I pulled into the driveway and left the car running. My conflicted emotions had my thoughts writhing in a feverish mess.
I wanted to be with Dean, but the thought freaked me out a little. My romances—if they could even be called that—were destined for a short shelf life by my own design. I didn’t want to navigate the complexities of a grownup relationship. So I picked men who couldn’t go the distance for one reason or another. For a long time, I thought they filled the void, kept me from being lonely and horny. But I wanted more from Dean.
The first step to more lay in my very near future. No matter if it ended in happily ever after or heartbreak, I knew being with Dean would tattoo my life. I sat there in front of his house seriously contemplating backing out of the driveway and going somewhere else. A curtain in the front window twitched. Now or never.
I walked up the cracked sidewalk and rang the doorbell. Dean met me at the door wearing a white t-shirt and faded blue jeans. His eyes, always full of intensity and intelligence, danced with nervousness. It almost convinced me to turn tail and run. If it hadn’t been for the way the t-shirt clung to his muscled chest, I probably would have.
“Hi…come on in.” He held the door open, and I walked inside.
The house sat empty for several years before Dean purchased it. He hadn’t done much to the house yet. Freed by the near constant humidity, the wallpaper hung in strips. The ancient, stained linoleum flooring buckled with cracks.
“Wow.” I turned a slow circle and peeked into a den where Dean seemed to have set himself up. It boasted a big screen TV, a TV tray, and a fake leather bachelor couch. “You know, the wallpaper will come right off with dish soap and water. All you have to do is make a solution and spray it on the walls. I could—”
“Did you come here to give me an estimate for your services?” Dean lips twitched and almost curved into a smile.
I shook my head. I wanted to say something seductive, but I couldn’t come up with words that didn’t sound like dialogue from a cheesy porn movie. I moved closer to Dean, until my breasts brushed his chest. He inhaled deeply and circled his arms around my waist. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, inhaling the fresh scent of soap and shaving cream. Dean kissed me back hard, pulling me up and against him. My pulse fluttered as my nerve endings grew more sensitive.
I twined my arms around Dean’s neck and tilted my head, allowing him to explore my mouth with his tongue. He cupped my butt and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he carried me into his bedroom. We didn’t need words or foreplay. We’d been doing that from the moment we met.
Dean dropped me on his bed, knelt over me, and parted my lips with his tongue. The fire inside me built to an ache. We kissed and groped until I pushed Dean away and got off the bed. While Dean watched in silence, I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them and my special occasion black lace panties to my ankles. I wiggled out of my shirt and bra and dropped them on the floor, panting from the throb of anticipation.
Dean shimmied out of his jeans and t-shirt. His body was a canvas of hard planes of sculpted muscle. Impressive. I crawled back onto the bed, and we knelt face to face. Dean pulled me against him and eased me backward onto the mattress, pulling my legs up around his waist.
I had one last second to doubt my decision, and then nothing mattered but our bodies rising and falling together. My eventual cries of ecstasy broke the stillness of the house. Dean was as good as he looked. Afterward, we lay half-dozing in each other’s arms.
When Dean’s breathing deepened into the pattern of sleep, I knew I needed to go. I sat on the edge of the bed and gathered my clothes off the floor. Dean opened one eye.
“Where you going?” He rose on one elbow, the sheet puddled around his waist.
“Home. I need to make sure Memaw’s okay.”
“That tough old woman doesn’t need you coddling her. Bet she’s already asl
eep anyway. Spend the night with me.”
This was too much, too fast. We’d had a big, frustrating buildup to the sex, which had been some of the best I’d ever had. We both needed time to think things over. Subconsciously, I wanted to prepare for Dean to disappoint me. He stroked my back while I thought.
“At least stay a few more minutes.” Dean reached across me and took my clothes out of my hands. He pulled me on top of him, and I lowered myself onto his hardness. His hands cupped my breasts as I rocked on top of him. This time, our movements were less frenzied, and we stared into each other’s eyes as the tightness inside me built and we exploded together.
The next time I woke up from a contented doze, I could feel the lateness of the hour. Dean talked softly on his cellphone. He said goodbye and jerked on his clothes.
“That was Sheriff Holze.” He rolled his eyes as he said the name.
“What did that turd want?” The notion of Joey Holze calling while I was naked spurred me to get dressed. I got up and gathered my clothes.
“Did you know dispatch calls him at home every time something interesting comes in?” He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Anyway, a black GTO was found burning at Beulah Church Road and 4077. Witnesses report two bodies in the car.” Dean came up behind me, put his arms around me. He kissed my shoulders and neck. “He wants me to go out there, try to head off the State Highway Patrol folks.”
“What on earth for?” I leaned into him, and he stiffened, drawing in a sharp breath. He slid his arms around my waist. My voice came out high and breathy. “Why not let them have the case?”
“Like I told you before, Holze wants to keep Burns County business in house. State boys can call in the Texas Rangers to investigate. Holze wants those badasses poking around his county about as much as he wants to go on a diet.” Dean pulled away from me and went to his dresser where he picked up a shoulder holster rig and pulled it on with jerky movements.
