“How bad was Kip beat up?” I asked, wondering if we had an assault and battery problem to contend with.
“I have no idea. I didn’t see the fight. Like Lyle said, they took it off the premises. I’m guessing he doesn’t look any worse ... or any better.”
“What a mess. A big stupid mess.”
“Don’t get too riled up. I see this all the time. Two guys duke it out, mostly throwing air punches, connecting enough times to draw a little blood. Once that happens, they both tend to back off. I just wanted you to get Wade away before it got bad enough that someone brought out a knife or a gun.”
From inside the cab, Wade groaned and shifted. His bare head hit the window with a hollow thump.
“Ouch,” Tony said, smiling. “He’s going to feel that tomorrow.”
“That’s not all he’ll feel, I’m sure,” I said. “Where’s his hat?”
“Who knows? When we close at two, we reconnoiter the rooms and patio and take all the crap people have left and put it in a big cardboard box next to the stage. It’ll show up eventually, unless someone takes it.”
“Thanks. For that... and everything.” I held out my hand.
He shook it. “Hang in there, boss. See you at the parade on Saturday.”
“I hope so,” I said. “If Gabe doesn’t kill me first for bringing home my drunk and bloody ex-brother-in-law.”
He grinned. “We all got our burdens. I’ll trade you my ex-wife for your problems any day.”
“No, thanks,” I said, laughing. His ex-wife, a speed freak, had gone after him with an ice pick, connecting four times before the police arrived. She was eventually incarcerated for attempted murder. “Guess I’ll just count my blessings while I drive home.”
During the ride home, I counted all right, but it wasn’t my blessings.
“Twenty million times,” I ranted to a snoring Wade. “That’s how many times I feel like I’ve had to do this. Have you ever heard of Alcoholics Anonymous? Don’t you care about anyone but yourself? You jerk, I’m not even related to you anymore. Why should I care if you get the crap beat out of you? You jerk, you big, stupid, dumb jerk. I ought to just dump you on the side of the road right now.”
He snorted in his sleep and turned his head. Drool pooled at the edge of his mouth. I turned my head in disgust and concentrated on the flashing white lines in the middle of the black road. Tule fog had moved in, and my old truck’s headlights barely broke through the soupy mist. I flipped on my high beams.
“Do you realize what kind of trouble I’m going to be in when I get home? Gabe is going to burst a blood vessel. I ought to drive us both in a ditch right now and save us the agony ... no, save me the agony of his lecture. Have you ever been lectured by Gabriel Ortiz? That man can cut melons with just his verbs. We’re in deep, deep crap, buddy, and it’s all your fault. Why in the world I care about saving your worthless butt is beyond me.”
His eyes fluttered, then he heaved a deep sigh. I wondered briefly if being drunk was like being in a coma. Could the person sometimes actually hear, comprehend in some deep metaphysical way, what you were saying?
I don’t care, I thought. I cracked my window to clear the truck’s cab of his alcoholic stench. The scent of wet earth and goats floated in. An improvement, but not much.
The drive back on the desolate highway seemed to take only seconds, and soon I was through Santa Flora and heading up the on-ramp to the freeway. I glanced at my watch. It was almost one A.M. I slowed the truck to fifty-five, trying to articulate a plausible explanation as to why I would rescue someone who technically wasn’t any more related to me than the man in the moon and had acted like the king of the morons since he’d arrived. My brain felt positively burnt. Not even Spielberg could come up with a good story for this one.
Our front porch light was a single bright beacon when I turned the corner onto our dark street. When I pulled up to the front curb, I was tempted to keep going, and would have had my copilot not been a smelly, passed-out drunk.
Gabe stood on the porch, arms crossed and stony-faced.
Scary, but expected.
But Emory, my good buddy, my childhood comrade, my erstwhile partner in crime, stood next to him, his posture eerily similar, his face frozen into an expression I’d never, ever seen on him. Emory pissed. Now there was a new adventure.
They were down the porch steps and across the yard standing next to the truck when I opened my door. Wade picked that particular moment to wake up from his stupor and bellow out, “Where’s my hat?”
Noticing him for the first time, Gabe and Emory stared at Wade, speechless. Then they both started talking at once. Gabe placed a hand on Emory’s shoulder.
“Excuse me, but she’s my wife,” he said. “I get to yell at her first.”
“By all means, sir,” he said, holding out his palm while giving me a severe look.
After the last three unbearable hours, their condescending attitudes were just what I needed to eliminate any vestige of fear and replace it with a barely containable anger—mostly at the entire male sex. Before Gabe could bark out a complete sentence, I held up my hand. “Nobody’s yelling at anybody. Not now. Not later. What you are going to do is help me get Wade to bed, and then we’ll talk. Sensibly. Without yelling. Like adults.”
Gabe opened his mouth to speak.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
The look on my face or my tone or something must have really impressed them, because they glanced at each other and without another word went around the side of the truck and roughly pulled Wade out. While they half dragged him across the yard, I went into the guest room and spread Gabe’s new sleeping bag down on the floor next to Emory’s bed. When I informed them of the sleeping arrangements, Emory’s stiff expression relayed what he thought of sharing a room with Wade, but he didn’t verbalize it.
Wise move, dear cousin of mine.
After Wade had been taken care of, I went into the kitchen to get a glass of milk for my burning stomach. Was this what an ulcer felt like? Gabe and Emory followed me silently, watching me pour the milk into a mug, add almond extract and sugar, and stick it in the microwave. Then I faced them.
“Okay, before you two even start, I’m telling you I didn’t have a choice. I got a call from Tony at the Frio Saloon. Wade was causing some problems there and needed to be picked up. There was no one else he could call, and neither of you were here to come with me. I know it was probably not the smartest thing to do, but I did it and that’s that. As it is, he got into a tussle with Kip before I arrived, but at least I hustled him out before anything serious could happen.” The microwave pinged, and I took out my mug of milk, testing it with my forefinger before taking a sip. “Any questions, or can I go to bed now?”
Emory spoke first. “Sweetcakes, much as I’d love to bless you out good for bein‘ so contrary and foolish, I know enough not to mess with you when your fur’s all standin’ on end, so I’ll be going on to bed and talk with you tomorrow.” He turned to Gabe. “My deepest sympathies, Chief.”
“Suck eggs,” I called to his retreating back.
“I love you, too,” he answered.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I informed Gabe.
His nostrils flared slightly, but he didn’t answer. Not a good sign. I took my warm milk into the bathroom and lathered my hair twice trying to wash away the acrid smell of cigarette smoke.
The light was out in our bedroom, so I felt my way to the bed and crawled in. The bedside clock said two A.M. The warmth from Gabe’s body tempted me, but I plumped my pillow and turned on my side away from him. I spoke to the pale moonlight coming through our bedroom window.
“I know you’re mad because I went to get Wade without calling you and I know it’s because you’re scared that I could have gotten hurt. But I honestly didn’t feel I had a choice and I really don’t want to fight about it.”
“All right.” His voice was cool, neutral.
His noncomba
tive response surprised me. For a split second, I almost asked him what he was thinking, then decided to let well enough alone.
A few minutes passed, and I lay there stiff and wide awake. The milk and shower hadn’t relaxed me as much as I’d hoped. Outside, a mourning dove started its soft, rhythmic cooing. The sound caused a heavy, sad feeling of nostalgia for an unknown something to rise up and fill my chest. Gabe shifted next to me, then reached over and pulled me into his arms. I pressed myself as close as I could, burying my face in his scratchy neck.
“Querida, querida,” he said, pressing his strong hands into my back I could feel the heat from them through my thin tee shirt. “Don’t you think I understand about la familia ?”
I drew in a shuddering breath, trying not to give in to the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. “But he’s not,” I whispered. “Not anymore.”
He touched my forehead gently with his lips. “Not in the law, perhaps, but in tu corazon. That is a different animal. No one knows better than me that the human heart is a law unto itself.”
“I’m sorry I scared you and Emory,” I said.
“I’m almost getting used to it,” he said, his voice wry. “Now, your cousin—he might have a few words for you tomorrow. He’s never experienced one of your escapades firsthand. I think he was a little annoyed because I wouldn’t use my authority and put out an all-points-bulletin.”
“I’ll talk to him. Grovel a bit and promise I’ll never do it again.”
“Groveling wouldn’t be bad, but if I were you I’d try to refrain from breaking one of the ten commandments.”
I slapped his chest lightly. “Hey ...” Then I thought about it. “Well, maybe you’re right.” I lay my head back down on his shoulder. “I think I might actually be able to sleep now.”
“Me, too. One last thing though.”
“Mmm?”
“Just so we’re clear on this. As mature and understanding as I am being about why you feel obligated to help your ex-brother-in-law, given the opportunity, I’m still going to kick his sorry ass.”
“Yes, dear,” I said, laughing softly in the darkness, knowing he was just letting off steam.
Or so I thought.
12
IN MY DREAMS there were bells. Shrilling, screaming bells. I woke with a start when I felt Gabe fumble over me and reach for the phone.
“Why isn’t that stupid thing on your side of the bed?” I asked, his warm chest smothering me in not an unpleasant way.
“Ortiz,” he said into the phone.
I struggled out from under him and glanced at the clock. Ten after six. The alarm would have gone off in twenty minutes anyway. It seemed we’d fallen asleep just seconds ago. I pulled the edge of my pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep. Gabe’s terse, angry voice cut through the down feathers and caused me to bolt up and listen.
“He’s here,” he said, then was silent. “No, I’ll bring him down. Give us an hour.” He slammed the receiver back on the phone.
“What’s going on?” I asked, pulling our thick quilt up around my chilled arms. I knew enough from his side of the conversation that it most likely involved Wade and that it wasn’t good. Just how badly had he beaten Kip?
“Kip Waterman’s body was found this morning behind the Frio Saloon. The Sheriff’s Department wants to talk to Wade.” He threw back the covers and pulled on a pair of white boxer shorts. He flung our bedroom door open, letting it hit the wall with a deep, wood-chunking thump. Pulling on my robe, I scrambled after him.
He was already dragging Wade up out of the sleeping bag when I reached the guest room doorway. A bleary-eyed Emory sat up in the queen-size bed.
“What the ... ?” Wade sputtered as Gabe shoved him down on the bed.
“Get your boots on, Harper,” Gabe said. “I’m taking you down to the sheriff’s office.”
Wade sat on the edge of the bed looking up at Gabe with confused, bloodshot eyes. The cloying old-liquor smell of him filled the room.
“Maybe he should take a shower first,” I said.
Gabe frowned at me. “He’s going now.”
“What’s going on?” Emory asked, reaching for his velour robe.
“Kip Waterman’s dead.” Gabe spit the words out. “The person last seen fighting with him was Wade.”
“What?” Wade stood up, wobbled, then abruptly sat back down. “How ...” His chapped lips parted in surprise.
“I’m getting dressed,” Gabe said. “Be ready to leave in ten minutes.”
“Think I’ll start a pot of coffee,” Emory said, laying a hand briefly on my shoulder as he passed. “Looks like we’ll be needin‘ it.”
Wade looked up at me, his face a mixture of confusion and resignation. “We threw a few punches, blondie, but he wasn’t dead when I went to the john. He was laying next to the creek a-bellyachin‘ about Shelby. I only connected twice.” He balled up his right fist and looked at it. Blood stained the crevices brown.
“Go wash your face and comb your hair,” I said, trying to buy myself some time while I thought about what to do. Again, I felt torn between my husband and someone who’d been a part of my life for a good deal longer than Gabe. Just how much did I owe Wade because of our past connection?
The benefit of the doubt, at least, a small voice said.
“There’s a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” I said. “And don’t say anything until I can get Amanda down there.”
He stood up, grabbing on to the brass bed post for support. “Who’s Amanda?”
“Your attorney,” I said grimly.
I went into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Gabe was bent down, combing his hair in front of my vanity table mirror. He was already dressed in jeans and a navy cable-knit sweater.
“I’m going with you,” I said.
He slipped his comb into the back pocket of his Levi’s. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re going to railroad him.” I tore off my robe and reached for my jeans.
He came over and took both my shoulders in his hands. They were warm and familiar and, at this moment, not one bit comforting. His thumbs lightly caressed my collar bone. “Querida, I’m not doing anything. I’m merely making it less embarrassing for everyone by taking him down to the sheriff’s department myself.”
“How did Kip die?”
“He was apparently knocked out with some blunt object. Then someone held his head down in that creek out behind the saloon. Preliminary call by the coroner is death by drowning, though until they do an autopsy they won’t be completely sure if it was the blow that killed him or the water.”
I pulled away from his hands. “I’m calling Amanda.”
A sharp, disgusted sound came from Gabe’s throat.
I pulled on my jeans and zipped them up. “He deserves to have someone on his side.”
“If he’s innocent, he doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
“Right. No innocent person has ever been convicted in our wonderful legal system.” I looked over at my angry husband. “Please, Gabe, just give him a fair chance.”
He ran a hand across his face in exasperation. “It’s not me you have to convince. I probably won’t even sit in on the questioning. The homicide happened on county land. Again, it’s up to the Sheriff’s Department.”
I walked over and lay my hand on his chest. “But they respect you. They’ll listen to you.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I would do anything for you, you know that. But this time ...” He cupped my chin in his hand. “This time, I think you’ve called it wrong.”
I touched his hand briefly with my fingertips, then pulled my chin away, though not in anger. His eyes turned down in sadness.
“We have to go. Yo te amo.”
“I love you, too, Friday.”
After he’d left with a cleaned-up and subdued Wade, I dialed Amanda’s home number. In the background, Bonnie Raitt was giving the whole world something to talk about.
; “Hey, Benni Harper, how’s tricks?” she asked, breathing hard.
“I’m sorry to bother you so early ...”
“Don’t sweat it, girlfriend. I was just doing some serious bonding with my treadmill. Hold on a minute ...” In a few seconds, the background went silent. “So, is this your before-coffee morning voice or is something wrong?”
I quickly told her the situation. As I talked I sensed more than heard her mental switching from good ole girl to experienced attorney.
“How long ago did they leave?” she asked, her voice all business.
“About five minutes ago.”
“That doesn’t give me much time with the way that husband of yours drives. You said the victim was found behind the Frio Saloon?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s the sheriff’s baby, all right. I’ll get down there as quick as I can. You said you told him not to say a thing until I got there?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if he’ll listen to me.”
I heard her inhale deeply and I could picture her shaking her auburn head. “You’d better hope he does, my friend. Meet me there.” She hung up without saying good-bye.
Feeling that I’d done as much as I could for now, I finished dressing and went into the kitchen. Emory had a cup of coffee waiting.
“So, what’s the story?” he asked, handing me the warm blue mug.
I added cream and sugar, explaining as much as I knew at this point. “I called Amanda Landry, that attorney I told you about who belongs to the co-op. She’s going to meet me there. Then I guess we’ll see just what they have on Wade.”
“And how about you and the chief?”
I sipped my coffee. “We’re fine, considering the impossible circumstances. I think we’re actually starting to form something that supersedes his job and my relationships in this town.”
“I think they call it a marriage,” Emory said, pulling the tie on his robe tighter.
“Ha, ha,” I countered halfheartedly.
“Is there anything I can do, sweetcakes?”
Dove in the Window Page 18
