Lost in Tennessee

by DeVito, Anita

  “Fast as I can.”

  Butch finished a piano version of his current chart topper at half the tempo he’d recorded it. Tom set a magazine on the wooden surface and a beer wet with condensate on top of it. “Thanks. Good day?”

  “Hell no. I always have to work twice as hard when Kate’s not there. She keeps everyone and everything in line and my world is better for it, and if you ever tell her I said that, I’ll call you out as the lying bastard you are. I could use a drink.”

  Jeb shoved a pile of potato chips into his mouth and curled the top of the bag down, munching then swallowing as he put the bag away. “I know just the place for a drink and a bite. You in, Clyde?”

  “Might as well,” Butch said, knowing if he didn’t go out he’d watch the clock until Kate returned. “You buy and we’ll even count it as your turn cooking. You wanna join us, Trudy?”

  Trudy had called on her way home and stopped in. “I’m going to pass in favor of a bubble bath and a home-style pedicure. Why don’t you give Hyde a call? Save him from working late.”

  Butch texted Hyde. Heading to SD. You in?

  The response was as fast as technology allowed. Yup. On my way.

  “He’s in,” Butch said. “Sure we can’t talk you into it, Trud?”

  Trudy cleared the coffee table. “Not tonight, Butchy.”

  Tom dropped to the floor and pounded out pushups.

  “What are you doing?” Jeb stood, brushing any lingering crumbs from his shirt.

  “Prepping. Appreciating the ladies doesn’t happen by accident.” Tom did ten push-ups with clapping between. “Practice.” Clap. “Makes.” Clap. “Perfect.” Clap.

  The Sly Dog was scant on patrons, but what it lacked in people, it made up for with gusto. The waitress kept the four men playing pool well supplied with good beer and cheap nachos. While Hyde lined up his shot, Tom leaned on his cue, watching the way she flowed around the obstacles with the full tray balanced on one hand.

  “Are you a dancer?”

  The cute blonde with short hair and shorter shorts eyed him up and down before answering. “I’ve always danced. I was on the dance squad in high school.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me one bit. You are a thing of beauty and so graceful when you walk around. I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

  “Then how are you up three balls?” Jeb asked.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Three balls? That’s impressive. Most men have trouble managing two. You need anything else, Jeb? Butch? Hyde?”

  “I’m done,” Jeb said. “I’m driving.”

  “I’ll have one more,” Butch said.

  Hyde lifted his empty. “Me, too.”

  “And you?” she asked.

  “I’m Tom. Do you have any sweet tea?”

  “Well, that would be me. Tiffany.”

  “Just bring Butch’s beer, sweet T.” Jeb rolled his eyes and sent her on her way. He looked at Tom before lining up his shot. “What is with you and women?”

  “I like the ladies.”

  Butch’s phone rang. He read the screen and immediately answered it. “What’s the good word, Finch?”

  Finch had been earning his keep managing the fallout from the Fawn incident. So far, most of the Internet play had been in his favor, painting Fawn as a bitter ex. The meet with Abbey McNeil helped. Abbey didn’t play fair, she played favorites, and Butch had made the cut. Butch denied flirting with Abbey, he just talked. Either way, Finch approved.

  “Abbey post another blog on Fawn’s breasts?”

  “Fawn is missing.”

  Butch frowned, waving Jeb, Tom, and Hyde to silence. “Missing? What do you mean missing? I’m putting you on speaker. Jeb’s here.”

  “Hold on. Let’s get someplace I can hear myself think.” Jeb signaled to the owner, received a nod, and led the way to the office. The four men squeezed in. A glorified closet, the office had the two things they needed: quiet and a closed door. “All right. What do we have?”

  Butch set the phone on the cluttered desk. A tinny version of Finch’s voice filled the space. “Fawn left her hotel this morning and hasn’t been seen since. She told her personal assistant, an Arturo Youngblood, that she was going to see you about the divorce.”

  “I haven’t seen her, Finch. I’ve been tied up all day. Even saw the lawyers.”

  “Did you call her?” Jeb asked, frowning.

  “No,” Butch denied vehemently.

  Finch cleared his throat. “Her flavor of the month claimed you asked to meet her to discuss the divorce privately.”

  Butch denied it hotly. “I didn’t, Jeb. Finch, you know I was leaving all of that to you.”

  Jeb edged toward the phone. “Finch, do you know what time she left the hotel?”

  “Nine-thirty. The concierge made note because of the fuss she made on her way out.”

  “I’ll make a few calls,” Jeb said. “If she was coming this way, maybe my boys know something. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We have enough of our own problems. The State Police are taking over the investigation into Angie’s death due to the conflict of interest.” Jeb looked at Butch. “I was going to tell you when we were alone.”

  Butch folded his arms and glared at his brother. “What conflict of interest?”

  “My ex-sister-in-law was found strangled on my parents’ property, and my brother is their strongest suspect.”

  Finch jumped in. “I’m going to call in the morning and set up a meeting. I want to be ahead of them on this. Let me get to work. Call me back if you need me.”

  Butch slapped his palms on his thighs. “What is there to be ahead of? I didn’t do this. What motivation did I have to kill Angie? Lots of people have exes. That can’t be a reason to kill.”

  Jeb squeezed Butch’s shoulder. “No. No, it’s not. The case they’ll build will be based on her repeatedly asking for money. You gave it to her, but it wasn’t enough for Angie. You told her no, cut her off, but she kept after you. Monday morning, you invited her over, maybe took her for a walk by the creek. You’d had enough.”

  Butch’s stomach revolted. He swallowed hard to keep the bile in place. “Jesus, Jeb. It’s not true. You gotta know it’s not true.”

  “I do. I also know you didn’t cut Angie off. I know you threatened to, but you didn’t. There was no obligation to pay her a cent, yet you did. Even though opportunity existed, the motive isn’t there. The State Police are good people. They’ll see there’s no evidence.” Jeb ran his hands through his short hair, his only nervous habit. “We did find something of a more personal nature, though. I need to tell you before they do. Let’s go back to the old house.”

  Butch didn’t care if Tom and Hyde were there. “Just say it, Jeb.”

  Jeb narrowed his eyes then nodded. “You weren’t the baby’s father. It was there, in Angie’s diary.”

  Butch chewed on the information, but it didn’t fit with his understanding of reality. Like looking at a map where north pointed down, it didn’t quite make sense. “No. She was pregnant. That’s why we got married.”

  Jeb looked Butch square in the eye. “I know, but it wasn’t yours.”

  The party broke up then. Jeb drove back to the old house where Butch sought the refuge of wood and steel. Night pressed against the single pane windows, listening to the story Butch wove. He played the songs of his life, from seventeen through today. How would his life be different today if he hadn’t married Angie? Would he have tried college? Would he have hit the road sooner? Without a doubt, his path would have been different. Butch believed every decision created a unique path. Would he have ever met Tessa? Fawn? Would he have traded one bad choice for another?

  Butch picked a simple twelve-bar blues tune. “Every path has joy. Every path has pain. For a tree to grow, takes sunshine and rain. I don’t know which way to go. I only know from which I came.”

  Floor boards groaned in the hallway. The house agreed, he thought, then movement caught his eye.

  “I’m touched. Just one day apart,
and you’re singing the blues.” Kate stood in the doorway with a teasing smile, her hair three hundred sixty degrees of red froth.

  She looked…perfect. “Did you drive all the way with the windows down?”

  “Hell, yes. What’s the point of driving if you can’t feel it? Besides, my day was weird.”

  “Betcha mine was weirder.” Butch set the guitar in the stand and held his arms wide until Kate filled them.

  She kissed his neck. “Care to make it interesting?”

  “You go first.”

  “I spent most of the day in mind-numbing sessions about interesting topics presented by middle-aged white guys who were as entertaining as toast. I got to lunch late, so all the seats were taken, and got to have my own private picnic on a square of sidewalk. In the exhibition hall, vendors ignored me to kiss up to zit-faced twenty-somethings with business cards. That wasn’t really bad, because if they realized the kind of capital I could swing, they’d have been on me like flies on shit. Day ended with being stood up by the one vendor I wanted to see. We were supposed to have dinner but he never showed. No call. No email. Nada. I ate dinner pathetically alone. Your turn.”

  “I started the day visiting Angie’s mother. Her living room is filled with the wilting flowers from the funeral. From there I went to see the divorce attorneys. I know I over pay them because of how many teeth they show when they see me. They’re just way too happy. Then I went to rehearsal, where I played like I was in a middle school band. Went to the bar with Jeb, Tom, and Hyde, where I found out my first wife lied about the baby being mine, and my brother has been removed from the case.”

  “Shit. You win.”

  “I’m not done. Finch called to say Fawn is missing.”

  “I suppose it’s too much to hope she went back to California. Well, you definitely win.” She stripped off her shirt. “Ready for your prize?”

  “Oh, I love your idea of interesting,” he said, taking her to the floor.

  Kate ran down the stairs, the steps thundering and squeaking under her feet. Due to a hard rain, she’d taken Wednesday off to spend with Butch, and she was itching to get back to work. She landed in the kitchen, disappointment saddening her face. “Crap. It’s only you.”

  Butch raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

  “Damn it. Tom’s left. I wanted to get a ride. I don’t like taking the Shelby on site. Too much debris.” She sat on a chair and pulled socks onto her bare feet.

  “Wasn’t Hyde supposed to have your truck back yesterday?”

  “Yeah but there was some wreck and he had to bump me. He’s supposed to be done today and I hope he is. We’re pouring one of the partially exposed walls, and I’d like to get around in my own truck.” She sighed heavily.

  That bad boy smile grew across Butch’s face. “I could be persuaded to drive you.”

  Kate loved that expression of his. Good things always followed. “Persuade, huh. I suppose you have ideas.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Many ideas. Make sure you eat today, you’re going to need your energy.”

  She tied her boots, her body tingling with anticipation. “Rest up, muscles. You’re going to need your energy.”

  Minutes later, Kate checked out the sky from Butch’s passenger seat. Above the rolling green hills, gray clouds thickened. They were set to pour a critical wall today. It had been scheduled for yesterday, but an all-day rain nixed that plan. Today the forecast called for overcast skies. The sky above them looked like it planned to do more than just be cloudy. “Just a few hours, then you can do your worst.”

  “If it rains again, come on home, and I’ll teach you a game. It’s called ‘Hay Rollin’.’” Butch turned into the entrance.

  “How do you play?”

  Butch kept his eyes on the road and his face straight. “We find a stack of hay and roll around. First one to get naked wins. There’s Hyde.”

  Butch parked next to the white truck Kate used day-in, day-out. Pick-up trucks and the occasional sedan pulled on site as workers reported for the day. Hyde stood behind Kate’s truck, watching the comings and goings.

  Kate slammed her door and rounded the back of the truck. “Hey, Hyde. Thanks for bringing her home. Anything I should know about?”

  Hyde hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Not mechanically. She’s tip top.”

  Butch put a foot on the truck’s bumper, resting his forearm on his knee. “What about non-mechanically?”

  Hyde squirmed, shuffling his thick paws on the dirt. “It’s gonna sound crazy, but I think someone moved your truck. I put her in an empty bay to lock it up ’cause of all the small tools you keep in it. No point inviting foolishness. When I pulled her out this morning, she was nose in. I swear I backed her in.”

  Kate rounded on the truck and threw the door open. “Is anything missing?”

  Hyde followed her around, Butch with him. “Not that I can see. You keep a neat truck, so I thought you might be able to tell.”

  She climbed in, searching the center storage area, glove box, and rear seat. Everything she could think of, she found where it should be. “Huh. That is weird.”

  Hyde pulled his ball cap off and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I’m just imaginin’.”

  Butch tipped his own hat as another worker waved in greeting. “Nothing wrong with imagining. I make good money at it. Need a ride back to the garage?”

  “Yep. Little Red, I did a standard service for your, Tom’s, and Waters’s trucks. Tom’s will need brakes next go around. Otherwise, you’re good to go. Here’s your bill.”

  Kate gave him a warning glare as she took the paper. If he undercharged her, she would have to get creative. She read over the parts costs, the labor hours, and the rate. “Looks fair. We’ll get it processed. Thanks.”

  An hour and a half later, Kate got the call she’d been waiting for. Waters and Tom were ready to pour the concrete wall. Her truck bounced across the yard, racing against dark gray clouds.

  Kate parked a truck length from the edge of the dig. This end of the building would be the crowning glory. The Cicada Headquarters would house the corporate staff, but it would also be a center for manufacturing and shipping. Much of the square footage was exactly that—square. Not here. A dramatic, double-story, open space with nearly a third of it receded into the earth, this part of the building looked like a super-sized version of a walkout basement. However, the skylights and glass-beaded concrete would make it a museum-quality gallery.

  Today her crew poured the second level of the outer wall. The form work had been set for days, waiting for the weather to cooperate. Kate could have been pressing her luck pouring today, but waiting for perfect condition would kill a schedule.

  Kate slid out of the truck and balanced three cups of coffee as she shut the door. Waters stood at the near end, watching over the progress. Over three feet wide, the form work started ten feet below ground and ended two feet above. Work today would be done from top-side. That’s where the party was. Large beige tarps had been draped over the forms as protection from prior rains. The last section of the wall sat open to the sky, waiting on concrete from the truck that maneuvered into position.

  Kate handed Waters the steamy cup of coffee. “Here you go, chief. It’ll put a spring in your step.” Kate rocked back and forth on her heels, curbing anticipation as she watched the men mill about. “You double checked the line, right? I thought you were ready to pour.”

  “You have no patience, Kate. You never have. Concrete is an art. You don’t rush art.”

  Kate wrinkled her nose with faux disdain. “You’re slow. You’re so slow, you’d get trampled in a turtle stampede.”

  Waters raised an eyebrow to her. “I can still pull you over my knee.”

  “Why don’t you pour the concrete instead? At least you have a chance of coming out on the winning end of that job.”

  Waters rubbed his weathered hand over his shadowed jaw. “You always did have a fast mouth.” He rais
ed his voice to be heard down the length of the wall. “All right, boys. The boss lady wants us to get going.”

  Kate kicked mud at Waters. “I hate when you call me that.”

  “I know.” Waters grinned like a bear with a fish. “Why are you in such a good mood anyway?”

  “I love this part. It’s the point where my imagination becomes real. I worked hard on this. You, Tom, the crew. I couldn’t ask for a better team. Look at the columns. They’re beautiful. The wall’s going to be the same. I know it.”

  “The mix is a pain in the ass to work with. It sets instantly. There’s no time for second chances. Let me get over there.” Waters took charge of the crew, directing laborers and drivers into final position. The turning drum on the concrete truck kicked into another gear and, moments later, a crystalline concoction slid down the chute and into the form. Three pairs of hands worked fast to move the quick-setting concrete into position. Tom personally vibrated down the concrete so no air pockets would mar the sparkling wall.

  Waters shouted for the tarp to be stripped from the next section as the wind kicked up. He looked to the sky and then over his shoulder at Kate. He shook his head.

  “Come on. Hold off.” Kate measured the darkness in the clouds. “You’re not even supposed to be here.” Her crew worked fast, moving down the line, closer to where she waited at the starting point of the wall.

  A few taunting drops fell, so few Kate could count them. Under Waters’s orchestration, the crew moved as a single unit. They had taken that rain cloud as a personal challenge, determined to beat Mother Nature at her own game.

  Kate stepped back, giving the crew the room it needed to remove the last section of tarp. She saw it, thirty seconds after the men peeling the tarp did. She fumbled for her phone, shouting at her crew while the call went through. “Jeb. We need you here. Bring an ambulance.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lightning cracked, whipping across the boiling sky. Thunder like a herd of elephants announced the opening of the heavens. Cold, heavy rain fell to the earth. First as a drop here and there, then in sheets so thick Kate lost sight of the men working next to her.